


Like Wounds That Bleed The Weekend

by ManicPixieDreamPharaoh



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: A Lot Of Talk About Suicide, Alternate Universe, Blindshipping, Implied/Referenced Self Harm, M/M, Prideshipping, Puzzleshipping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 10:03:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 36,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8140021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ManicPixieDreamPharaoh/pseuds/ManicPixieDreamPharaoh
Summary: "This man with hair too much like his own, and an attitude too reversed, too rehearsed to be real.This man who took drugs but also whatever he pleased from Atem, a man who had beaten Atem at his own game and then shot up in his bedsheets.Atem hated him with every piece of his soul, and so, he closed his eyes and pulled his body against his own, hoping he could rub some of his wounds off on Yugi's skin."Or; the one where Atem is a drug dealer and Yugi is a jerk.





	1. Lampshade me from you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter has undergone a rewrite as of _15/4/2018._

Yugi shook his shoulders in an attempt to dislodge the pilings of snow that had nestled in the creases of his coat. Impatient, he slid his key into the door, jaunting it roughly in the lock.

_Stupid fucking thing._

They’d put off replacing the lock for months.

_Stupid Craig._

He cursed his neighbour in his mind, still couldn’t comprehend why he had thought that the best revenge for music played too loudly was to shove an unidentified substance through the lock.

“God, he’s a dick.” He muttered aloud, continuing to rattle the key with a growing impatience.

Fuck, he hoped Jou was okay.

 

His own words echoed in his head, cruel attacks that rose in his throat like bubbles, forcing his lips apart and overflowing out, slicing into Jounouchi. He’d looked down at his best friend, all unfocused eyes and gaunt cheekbones, his own head swelling and roaring like the wind with his untempered rage.

The worry he’d been harbouring for months had become fear, the fear disgust, and the disgust quickly turned into hatred.

Yugi had forgotten, in the heat of blinding hostiliy, that concern for his friend should be the priority. Instead, at the time, he’d seen nothing more than a husk, a shambling imitation of the person he used to trust with everything he held dear, everything he had ever had.

 

** * **

 

_“Jounouchi, what the fuck? It’s 10am. I’m not calling Mai and making excuses for you again–_ fuck. _You said you were going to stop. You_ promised _you were going to stop.”_

_His voice cracked on the last sentence, making him cringe. He hated himself for it, hated the vulnerability of it._

_“Yug’, please, just leave me alone.” The voice was barely a whisper, dry and hoarse._

_Yugi felt disgust building in him, glowering down at the shell of a boy._

_This wasn’t his best friend._

_He didn’t recognise this person._

 

_The deep love he’d felt for Jounouchi was shrouded, an ice-coated fist that clenched unforgivingly around his heart, squeezing without relent._

_“You’re pathetic, you know that?” he could hear the venom as it slipped through his lips, poisoning the air. He felt no desire to stop it, the toxicity tasted good on his tongue, the deadly reality of his words realised as he spoke them, the honesty of it._

_He wanted to show this imposter how much he disgusted him, how unwelcome he was in their home._

_“You’re just like him.” He said flatly, “your father? You look_ just _like him.”_

_He watched with fleeting superiority as Jou’s eyes widened at that, bloodshot and pale, his head snapping up so fast Yugi heard his neck crack, as though he’d found his body slung from the rafters by a noose he’d tied himself._

_His chest pounded out a drumbeat as he watched, some sick sense of power overcoming him as misery flooded into blurred and muddy eyes._

_“I don’t even want to look at you right now. I’m going out.”_

 

** * **

 

When the door finally clicked and his wrist turned with the key, Yugi heaved a sigh of relief, driving his knee against it while pressing at the top with his hand.

Their apartment was falling apart, and when the top edge of the door refused to shift, he groaned and shoved his shoulder into it, catching himself as it gave and his weight was thrown forward into the hallway.

He approached the door at the end of it tentatively.

“Jou?” he called, flicking on the warm yellow lights as he grew closer.

The apartment was too quiet.

“Jou– Jounouchi? I’m coming in.” He announced, silently pleading for a response as he placed a hand against the splintered, unpainted wood of the bedroom door.

He was desperate for something to prepare him, any indication or sound that would ease the anxious churning of his stomach that he would need to call for an ambulance again once he saw what was on the other side.

He was stalling.

He knew he should already be in there.

The door held the kind of history that would never be known, scars that ran deep into the grain, blemishes, unrecognisable stains.

A large piece of the wood had been missing from just above the handle when they moved in, cardboard taped over it to at least attempt to dignify it.

He should already be in there, he reminded him once more, tracing fingers along the deep incisions in the wood from long before they had lived in this apartment. He studied them, buying time with precious seconds of his friend’s life.

He knew he should open the door.

 

He swallowed and curled his fingers in so that he could bury a nail in his palm. He pressed as tightly as he could as he slowly opened the door.

“I was wondering when you’d come back.” Jou’s tone was sharp, but Yugi knew his voice well enough to hear the dry scrape of his throat.

For an addict, Jou really sucked at taking his _actual_ medication, his body had never coped well with drastic seasonal shifts, pneumonia had threatened him on a regular basis even before he’d dropped 20 pounds in a horrifyingly short time.

Drugs had sapped the life from him.

Yugi let his eyes quickly scan over Jounouchi’s body, pausing at his exposed wrists– hints of pale pink, white lines, but no red, no fresh attempts at pulling himself out of his own skin.

He breathed a quiet sigh of relief, “Jou, I’m– I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He inhaled deeply, trying to focus on steadying the quiver in his hands and voice.

_Control._

He looked into the pale face of his best friend, and hated what he saw there, though he knew it was deserved.

Jounouchi was angry, Yugi would have called it murderous but it was slightly diminished by the hand scratching absently– no, mechanically, automatically– at the pit of his elbow, where the skin had long scabbed, littered with tiny white crescent blemishes that Yugi knew had come from his own nails, and the labourous nature of the breath that left chapped and pale lips.

 

Yugi knew he’d crossed a line, that he’d crossed a line they couldn’t just come back from easily. There wasn’t a single thing worse that he could have said.

It had been a low blow, even if true at the time, and Yugi knew that had been his intent. He’d wanted to sear a wound so deep into Jounouchi’s chest, in the hopes that he would ache and hate himself as much as Yugi had at that moment.

Maybe, he was becoming cruel.

_Ha._

That’d show everyone who’d called him a pushover in school.

He’d have smirked bitterly at that if he wasn’t aware of Jou’s eyes fixed on him, burning with questions, buried worry tucked behind anger.

( _Of course he was worried. He shoots heroin three times a day, and of fucking course he’s still concerned for Yugi.)_

“Sorry isn’t gonna fix this, Yugi. You should just move out.”

“Shut up. You don’t mean that.”

“Well, how am I gonna stand to look at you? You’re an asshole.”

Yugi shrugged, burying his cold hands into the pockets of his coat so it stretched taut across his shoulders, “tell me what to do to fix it and I’ll do it.” He murmured, “Jesus, Jou, you wanna trade rooms? Me to let you win next time we play chess? Suck your dick?” he suggested, working to keep a calm tone while establishing a clear edge, sharp, cutting.

Yugi caught the way Jou’s lips curled up slightly at that, fighting to maintain his scowl. He’d never been much for containing his smile, Jounouchi was far too ride or die as a person.

“I could beat you at chess if I tried,” Yugi scoffed at that, it was too obvious of a lie for him to even consider being offended, “and anyway, I don’t want anything from you.” Jounouchi paused for a long moment, staring at him, studying him, before continuing in a much more tired voice, “you’re a shitty friend sometimes, you know that?”

 

Jou stood and glowered down at Yugi, and Yugi couldn’t help but roll his eyes. He was always trying to use his height to intimidate people, but 5’8” of boy wasn’t nearly as threatening when that frame carried barely 100 pounds. He’d grown lanky where he used to be broad, bones cut through skin awkwardly, sallowed out and gaping where there used to be muscle, his skin too pale for him to be a healthy man, a hint of blue crawling beneath the surface.

Jounouchi was bluffing the tough guy act, because he knew it wouldn’t work as he was now.

He knew what he wanted in order for Yugi to forgive him, and Yugi knew this game– he had to wait it out until Jou gave him the offer for how to fix it.

He squared his shoulders and glared back, “like you can talk, junkie.”

Jou barked a short laugh from the base of his throat, Yugi would have bet actual money that hurt him, “you can do better than that, King of Games.”

His hand was against Yugi’s windpipe before he could see it coming, he felt himself being pushed backwards, the soft flesh of his jaw being dug into and shortening his breath in rasps.

Yugi narrowed his eyes and tried to stop choking, he let Jou guide him, let his chin tilt upwards at Jou’s force, and wrapped his own fingers around Jou’s.

Violence had become a method of communication in their friendship of late, so much so that this wasn’t an alarming occurance.

His back met the wall with a gentle thud, and between the numbing cold air and his thickly padded coat, Yugi barely felt it, held aloft by Jounouchi’s hand.

_Bastard._

 

“Hey Jou, how about we skip the foreplay and get to the part where you try to punch me but forget I’m too fast for you?” he quipped, quickly trying to decide upon his best plan of defense.

Jou’s eyes glinted darkly, never one to resist a challenge, his free hand clenching into a fist, “too quick, huh?”

Yugi _almost_ rolled his eyes, instead settling for wedging his own thumb under Jou’s and twisting his hand, his feet catching his weight as he fell, he drove an elbow directly into Jou’s ribcage, waching as the fury on his friend’s face dissolved instantly as pain overtook it, gingerly resting a palm against what Yugi could only imagine were protesting ribs.

Yugi watched as he levered his palms against his own knees and fought to catch his breath, sure that he wouldn’t retaliate.

“I thought you were better than that, Yugi. What happened to being a pacifist?” he managed in barely a whisper.

Yugi had winded him, and it was his turn to laugh softly at that, “that philosophy walked out the door around the same time Valon did, with all my money and my phone.” He said bluntly, watching as guilt flicked through Jounouchi’s eyes.

_Oh yeah, he hadn’t forgotten that yet, jerk._

“God, you’re an asshole, Yug’.” Jou remarked, panting softly as he sat on the bed, soft clouds forming as he breathed– Yugi made a mental note that the heater clearly had to be fixed once– he looked at his hands, “go and buy me something and I won’t kick you out.” Jounouchi said carefully, after silence had stretched unbearable thin between the two of them, intent behind his words that Yugi wasn’t accustomed to.

That alone was enough to pique Yugi’s interest, Jounouchi behaving this way was strange.

“…what would you like me to buy you, Jounouchi.”

Jou looked away, “just something off a friend.”

_Of course_ , Yugi thought, bitter, _he’s sending me on a fucking drug run. Asshole._

 

“I already checked and he’s free. He’ll meet you by the docks, when you’re ready.”

That was only about a three minute walk from their apartment, and Jou could easily do it himself. Clearly, Yugi was expected to quite literally pay for what he’d said.

He could say no.

He played with the idea in his head; tell Jounouchi to go fuck himself, grab his stuff and stay on someone’s couch for a few weeks.

A nasty voice in the back of his head sneered, _whose couch?_ And he did his best to ignore it, gazing at his friend as he tried to clear his throat and recover from having the wind torn from his lungs.

Jounouchi had gotten week. There’d been a time when he would get into fistfights far worse than that on a near daily basis, relishing in the thrill of his own pounding heartbeat, but that boy was long gone, and Yugi had taken too long to realise it.

Mentally, he drafted a list in his mind to prepare himself for partaking in a drug deal, completely ignorant to how this worked, he sighed heavily and looked at Jou again.

“How much money will I need.”

 


	2. A Vulpine Act of Hostility

It was far too cold to be outside right now.

The sun was starting to set as Yugi walked briskly toward the docks, bones clicking with every step, cold air snaked around each one, shaking them like toys.

_ Fuck _ Jou. Fuck him and his stupid drugs.

He yanked roughly at the cord to cinch the waist of his navy anorak, grateful as hell that it hung so low on his thighs.

Would this guy even sell him drugs? Imagine if he got asked for ID. By a drug dealer. That was something that could probably happen to Yugi, and not one other person in the world.

He knew the cold would be pinching his cheeks pink, only making him look younger. 

He set his jaw in defiance and narrowed his eyes slightly, squaring up his shoulders.

He was 21. People had to stop assuming he was a child eventually, right?

He stepped onto the dock and glanced around.

There were two other people in sight.

A silhouette of a girl - slight build, her coat splayed out like a skirt as she danced along the tops of the wooden beams supporting the dock, and a few meters away, seeming to be facing her, a man, hidden enough by the shadows that it was unclear.

He could make out his build - very slight - the fact that this guy was barely going to be taller than he was, and a flash of crimson.

Yugi figured that had to be the dealer.

He walked over, very aware of the man turning to face him.

He kept his eyes low, counting the cracks in the wooden boards of the decking.

Too late, he realized he had no idea what to say.

_ What’s the etiquette for a drug deal? _

_ Is it rude to make small talk? Is it rude  _ _ not _ _ to? _

_ Oh god, what if he’s not even the dealer? _

Yugi was too close to stop now.

He stopped walking, two, maybe three meters from the guy.

“You Katsuya’s friend?”

The guy had one hell of a voice, deep and strong, even when soft.

Yugi looked up, making sure to raise his head rather than his eyes, taking in the guy.

_ Oh, fuck. _

He had been right about the height.

The dealer couldn’t be more than a few centimetres taller than him, but he stood tall.

Despite his slight build - Yugi was certain he weighed more - he seemed to stand stronger than he really was, hips slightly forward and feet spread wider than necessary.

But his face was what Yugi couldn’t keep his eyes away from.

Smooth, dark skin, sharp jawline, dark eyes the colour of blood, hair that matched, with soft bangs falling all over those blood-eyes.

Soft lips, expressive eyebrows.

Yugi couldn’t focus on one part of the man.

He wanted to fucking devour him.

Yugi held his face steady through this, though he already knew this kid -  _ god, he looked young _ \- wasn’t here to screw around. He cleared his throat, smirking as crimson eyes snapped away from Yugi’s body to meet his eyes, obviously this guy was far less subtle than him.

“Yep. $80 work?”

The other man smirked, “Right to business, hey Tough Guy?”

He had no right having a smile like that. Everything about his mouth was perfect. His lips were beautiful. His  _ teeth _ were beautiful.

Who the hell even has beautiful teeth?

Everything about this dude was beautiful.

Yugi shrugged, “Most of the people I deal with aren’t interested in chit-chat.” It was technically true. He only really spoke to Jou – who hadn’t been up for talking since he had taken heroin as a bedfellow – and his boss, whose calls never went beyond the weekly, ‘You missed your deadline, hurry up.’

The dealer was very clearly considering him, his eyes kept flicking down to Yugi’s hands. 

Yugi frowned at him, holding out the money. He had already noted that this area had no cameras on it, and it was far too dark even if there were, so it wasn’t like he had to hide it.

“Don’t look like a junkie to me.”

“Yeah? Well, who asked you? Just fucking - give me the shit.” he snapped, and immediately bit the inside of his cheek, hard. 

_ Control _ . He told himself.

The man was still smirking with a catlike gleam, he traded him the small package, which Yugi stuffed into his coat.

“Thanks.”

“Hey, it’s my job.” A more genuine smile there. 

_ A comedian, _ Yugi thought sarcastically. 

“Seriously, kid like you? No way you take this shit. Sure you’re not a narc? The cops must know not to use someone so cute though. Gets too much attention.”

The guy spoke like he was just saying every word that popped up in his head, as if his speech was just a train running off a cliff that he had no desire to stop.

Also, he was an asshole. And he knew it.

And- wait, cute?

Yugi had been about to explain they aren’t for him, but now this guy was getting on his nerves.  _ Fuck this dude. _

He set cold eyes on him, “You think Katsuya would set a narc on you?”

It wasn’t often he had to use Jounouchi’s other name.

The sly smirk fell apart into a wide grin, _ oh fuck _ , and then a soft laugh.

It also wasn’t often he wanted to drag a guy by the shirt to the nearest wall and demand to be touched.

“Nah, just saying though, dude, you shouldn’t do this shit. you’re obviously not in so deep you can’t pull yourself out.” Yugi saw a flash of beautiful teeth chewing at the corner of his bottom lip, “You’re nice to look at, won’t stay like that when you’re cracked out.”

Yugi didn’t even know how to react.

This dude was hitting on him and insulting him in the same breath. He had no idea how to handle it.

It was pissing him off, and he was still buzzing with energy from fighting with Jounouchi – though he suspected fighting a drug dealer might end up worse than fighting an addict, despite the fact that this guy seemed like he might fly away at the slightest breeze - but the guy was hitting on him.

Two could play at that game. 

And god, could Yugi use a game right now. Flirting had become his absolute favourite these past few months, and it wasn’t like he  _ hadn’t _ been imagining taking this guy home with him and ripping off his clothes.

He tipped his chin up slightly, levelling their faces – the dealer couldn’t be more than half an inch taller.

“I can be much nicer to look at. Would you like to find out?”

The smile had fallen from the dealer’s face, but he wasn’t frowning. His eyes were locked on Yugi’s, twin rubies shining in the dim light. He looked determined, some kind of faux cockiness.

Yugi could feel the heat in the air between him, he wanted this guy’s skin against his, he wanted to taste him, he wanted to just, fucking eat him. 

This was ridiculous.

The dealer smirked, every inch of his face oozing confidence.

“If I fucked every hot junkie who offered, I’d have a lot less time to work.”

Yugi wanted to straight-up hit the guy.

He wanted to punch him in the throat, wanted to wrap his fingers around his throat, hear him gasp.

_ Oh. _

He needed to touch this guy, and he had just turned him down.

And Yugi still wanted to sleep with him.  _ Jesus _ .

“Whatever. I’m going. Thanks for the gear.” The words tasted fake on his tongue - he wasn’t even sure if you could  _ call _ heroin gear. Was gear a specific drug related term? - he took a step away, sweeping his eyes slowly over the dealer, all wrapped up in a knee-length military swing coat, a dark green that just worked with his complexion and eyes. It was apparent it had been tailored to cater to his build, but it still hung a little too freely over his shoulders, Yugi could almost see sharp collarbones beneath it.

Yugi wanted that coat on the floor, wanted to run his hands over every inch of his skin and never let him go.

“Name’s Atem, Tough Guy.” Yugi raised his eyes to meet the dealer-  _ Atem’s _ \- face.

“Am I supposed to care?” Yugi retorted.

Atem laughed easily, raising one hand to scratch at the back of his head, his eyebrows shooting up under messy bangs, “Well, if you have a better line next time, you might have a chance. And I prefer when people know what name to use when we’re screwing.”

Yugi’s stomach burned, this guy was ridiculous, and confusing.

But he definitely wanted him. He wanted his lips and his breath and his body and his voice.

Yugi gave the guy a coy smile, “Guess I’ll see you next time then,  _ Atem _ .” He split the name into two syllables, tasting it on his lips, very aware of how closely Atem was studying him, his gaze almost dragging on Yugi’s lips.

Yugi turned away from the man and walked steadily away, hearing two feet drop onto the wood, followed by light but swift running.

_ He would not look back _ , he told himself firmly,  _ there were plenty of other hot guys, who wouldn’t look at him like he was simultaneously dirt and the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. Yugi Mutou did not beg, nor chase after men. _

***

When he returned to the apartment, he tossed the drugs at Jounouchi, shrugged out of his coat, and grabbed his sulking friend’s phone. He tapped it a few times before returning it to the charger in the kitchen.

“Hey Jou?” he called, seeing his friend retreat into his bedroom.

A blonde mess of hair poked back out, “Yea?”

“You know I really am sorry, right? I hope you’re okay. You’re just scaring me a lot and I have no idea what to do or how to help you.”

“Yeah, Yuge.” Jounouchi’s voice was comforting. Jounouchi was abusing drugs every day, and here he was, comforting Yugi. After Yugi nearly broke his ribs. “I know. Don’t worry about it.”

His door closed behind him and Yugi followed his lead, to his own bedroom, tugging the door closed with his foot. He pulled his own phone from his pocket and saved the contact information he had sent himself, then glared at it, unsure why he had even bothered.

Atem's name glared right back at him.


	3. A Tempestuous Despot That I Can't Seem To Propiciate

The soft yellow tint of the computer screen was mocking him.

Yugi had serious writer's block.

He had two days left to send in his article.

And he had spent the past three staring at a blank, vaguely piss-toned screen.

Jounouchi had insisted when he first got this job on changing his computer settings, something about ‘short wave-length colors straining eyes’.

For some reason that meant he has to have yellow-stained everything, at least digitally.

He had planned to write a piece about the latest release from Nintendo. Game reviews were his favorite, but he could barely remember playing the thing, let alone what it was about and how the quality was.

He knew whose fault this was. He set his jaw, picking up his phone.

_ Fuck it. _ He thought, and fired off a text.

-Can you deliver-

The response took two full minutes to come through. Yugi hated him and his stupid face.

-Who is this?-

_ Oh. OH. Oops. _

-Its me, Hot Junkie. Katsuya gave me your number.- He waited two minutes and ten seconds before sending it.  _ Petty _ .

This time the reply came straight away. Yugi smirked.

-Deliver? Sounds like someone’s just trying to get me into bed. I can meet you somewhere nearby, whenever. But I don’t do house calls.-

-Fine. Docks. Same as last time. Be there in 10.-

Yugi switched off his computer, figuring the engine screaming in labor probably deserved a break for once.  _ Don’t we all? _

He stood and changed out of his pyjama pants.

He pulled on black jeans with rips at both knees and a pale grey denim jacket.

He glanced in the mirror and messed with his hair, before deciding it looked haphazard enough on its own  _ thank you very much. _

He grabbed his keys and headed out.

 

He walked quickly to the shop on the corner, thinking about Atem.

He wanted to know how old the guy was. He wanted to know what the rest of his skin looked like.

He wanted to know where to touch to make him shudder. Wanted Atem to know the same for him.

He thought about having Atem’s hands on him, imagined how he would sound with Yugi’s teeth dragging along his skin.

He shuddered slightly, withdrawing money.

This was going to be fun.

***

It wasn’t a particularly cold afternoon, the sun peeking out from behind thick white clouds, Yugi sat with his legs hanging from the edge of the dock. There were a few children running around the sand underneath him, he watched them play, tackling each other and giggling.

When did he get so fucking numb? He was about to buy drugs he wouldn’t take, just as an excuse to eye-fuck a hot dealer.

At least Atem looked nothing like Conall.

Yugi shut that thought down as soon as he thought of the name, feeling the boulders he had carefully stacked inside his chest dislodge and shift, before starting to roll heavily within him.

He felt uneven, like he was swooping and unbalanced, walking a tightrope.  _ God damn it. _

He’d almost been at a record. Hadn’t thought about  _ him _ since a few days before his 21st birthday. Over three months.

He guessed the distractions he’d taken to were helping, or maybe all the gin was just killing brain cells and he was winning the goddamn lottery with the ones it took.

He glanced down at the kids, who were yelling now. 

Kids who reminded him of Conall.

One held a large stick, the other a plastic sword.

“We don’t take kindly to pirates around these parts!”

“Matey, I don’t care how you plan to take me! I’ll be leaving here with all yer gold!”

Yugi turned and stood up, these kids were really getting to him. His chest still felt heavy and uneasy, he decided he hated children.

He straightened his jacket and looked up, catching sight of Atem as he walked onto the dock. The girl from the other day was with him, by his side, her hand tucked tightly around his forearm.

_ Huh _ . Yugi thought.  _ A girlfriend? _

That didn’t exactly fit into the narrative as Yugi recalled it.

He watched as Atem tugged his arm free and clearly ordered the girl away, she shot him a pout before skipping away from him, shooting him a middle finger when he glanced away to run his fingers through the blonde at the top of his head, raking it back.

Yugi drew a slow, icy breath and approached his dealer, silently begging the swooping boulders in his chest to spare him for a few moments.

 

“Hey, Atem.” he murmured, dragging his eyes over him again, his stomach twisting with delight at the sight.

He was wearing tight black pants and a long sleeved black shirt that clung tight to slender arms. Slender was an understatement, really, Atem was thin and not much more than bones.

_ Yugi wasn’t sure he’d ever seen wrists so frail. _

An emerald green trench coat hung over his shoulders, dramatically falling behind him like a cape caught by the wind.

_ Oh god _ , he’d been dreaming about hooking up with a fucking nerd.

“Hey.” Atem hadn’t looked at him like last time. He looked very specifically into his face.

“Nice weather, hey? Good break from the snow.” Yugi began.

Atem’s eyebrows arched, amused, “Excuse me?”

“You said you wanted small talk.”

“I said nothing of the sort!” Atem said defensively, laughing softly.

Yugi smiled easily, it was hard not to when Atem laughed. He wanted to test the waters, “Okay, maybe not those exact words. though, I have, however, been thinking about a few of the things you did say.” 

All the time. 

Every day since he’d said them. 

While he slept.

 

Atem’s beautiful teeth found the corner of his mouth again.

“I bet you have.” he smirked, “Did you call me here to buy drugs? Or to flirt?”

Yugi shrugged, “Can’t we have both?”

Feeling the anxiety in his chest rise up again, the stones in his chest still attempting to knock him over, he fought back against it. He wanted to be in charge. He wanted to take  _ control _ .

He flicked his eyes quickly around, taking in the distance to the boat-shed behind Atem, which was casting dark shadows that could conceal them.

It would only take about five steps.

He took a soft breath and squared his shoulders, stepping closer to Atem and raising one hand to rest on his waist. He curled his fingers in, pressing his nails into the skin a little too hard, because he could.

The slightly taller man backed up just like he’d wanted.

_ Did as he was told. _

Yugi didn’t relent, stepping closer until their hips almost touched, very aware of the static crackling around them, the flames shooting from his fingertips.

“I think you want me to flirt.” Yugi said, his voice low but steady.

Atem’s back hit the wall sharply, he was curled down slightly, looking up at Yugi, but in no way intimidated. If anything, his eyes were just more lazily confident.

“I don’t really have any interest in fucking someone stupid enough to continue taking hard drugs when they’re still safe from the addiction.” Atem responded, but his lips were parted ever so slightly and Yugi could see the challenge shining in his eyes.

Yugi raised an eyebrow, “That’s sort of harsh coming from a guy who sells them.”

Atem rolled his eyes, his  _ entire _ demeanor changing then, he stretched out so they were even in terms of height, peered down at Yugi with disdain.

“Why is it that when I lose a hand of poker and blame the dealer, the casino never takes my side?” he asked, “My job is my job. I don’t see how it’s my fault that idiots like you want to fuck up your lives.”

Yugi shrugged, “Why is it that you keep pretending to give a shit about my personal habits when you obviously want to touch me regardless?”

Atem placed his hand on Yugi’s hip, pulling his hips closer, eyes locked onto Yugi’s. 

His hands felt so good against his body.

Yugi felt a weight drop into the inner pocket of his coat, while the hand slid down and sharply squeezed at his ass.

Yugi bristled, bit back a sound, and smirked at Atem, whose hand was now reaching into the pocket there, retrieving his payment.

“Lucky guess that was where I had the money?” he asked, raising one eyebrow.

Blood-eyes danced playfully and Atem’s full grin returned, teeth and all.

Fucking beautiful.

“happy coincidence.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Atem is the biggest nerd and Yugi loves it tbh.
> 
> follow me on tumblr :) www.manicpixiedreampharaoh.tumblr.com
> 
> ive been drawing some stuff for this fic but i dont have the confidence in my art to post it. If anybody is interested i might put a few on tumblr.


	4. Stuck On Arms Like Track Marks

Atem flopped back onto the white linen lifelessly, his chest heaving, neck aching. Rolling his head carefully, he watched the man who had just fucked the life out of him as he got to his feet beside the bed.

“You don’t wanna cuddle,  _ babe _ ?” He slurred, attempting sarcasm, but quickly became acutely aware that he was hardly moving his lips. They were still vibrating, like the rest of his face and body. Atem glared down at a trembling foot.

“You’re going to have to find that particular satisfaction elsewhere.”

The taller man yawned, pulling soft blue boxers up his stupidly long legs, before walking to the crowded work desk in the corner, pencils and pens neatly organized into cyan blue tins, stacks of loose papers stacked neatly, notebooks covering the desk, the only disorder in the otherwise spotless room.

“Anyway, you were saying something,” Kaiba paused, “about some client you’re obviously desperate to sleep with.”

Atem coughed out a laugh, his lungs and brain still hadn’t completely recovered from the way Kaiba had just wrecked him, he tried to raise himself onto his knees and sunk back down quickly. 

Realizing that getting up right now was fighting a losing battle, he settled for reaching out and tracing the spikes poking out from the corners of the mouth of the dragon’s head that had been intricately carved into all four wooden pillars at the ends of the bed.

Kaiba was just too much sometimes. 

He just jumped straight back into their conversation from earlier, as if the last hour of slamming their bones together had been nothing more than an interruption to his busy schedule, an unimportant call during a meeting. 

As though five minutes ago his fist hadn’t been wrapped in Atem’s hair, grinding his cheek against the bedframe while he fucked the life out of him, his heavy weight and rough touch stirring Atem’s heart once more, while also bringing it so close to stopping he could just close his eyes and drift away.

Still, Atem took pride in the obvious heavy breathing Kaiba was also recovering from, and the red scratches dotted with blood that ran down his spine in five neat lines.

He rubbed his knuckles over his - already starting to bruise - hipbones, “He’s just such an idiot, Seto.”

A grunt in response. Kaiba wasn’t about to interrupt him. 

_ You were all words five minutes ago. _ Atem thought to himself, running his tongue over his teeth. 

He’d learnt quickly not to tease Kaiba when it came to sex. He was more ache than body right now, but experience reminded him it could be much worse. His jaw clicked as though to remind him.

“He keeps fucking texting me on my personal phone to buy. I should never have given Katsuya my number. He’s bought 20 grams in two weeks, and he’s smaller than I am! And he does not look like a junkie.” He ranted.

“Are you just saying that because he looks like someone you want to put your dick in?”

“You’re the pinnacle of class, boss.” Atem rolled his eyes, “He looks like- ugh. I don’t know. he’s hot, okay? He’s a babe and he basically throws himself at me every time I see him and it’s getting harder and harder to say no.”

Kaiba laughed shortly at that, “Are you saving yourself for me, now? Atem, I’m flattered. But honestly, feel free to sleep with your junkie. Despite your feelings towards drugs, you’ve never had a problem sleeping with the clientele before.”

Atem sighed, “I hate him. I hate his stupid face. Even Mana thinks he’s cute.” he rubbed his eyes, his body was starting to settle down, he could feel his knees steadying, raising them and flexing his feet, “Speaking of Mana! You know she’s still babysitting me? Comes with me to every deal or collection and fails to look inconspicuous. Ra, you get stabbed in the thigh one time and all of a sudden everyone is out to kill you. Can you get her to back off?”

That earnt him a slight sigh that just screamed;  _ I am done with your shit. _

“Do I need to remind you, again, Atem, that the pixie does not work for me, and so I cannot make her do anything. And honestly, it’s probably good she’s there. Tiny as she is, she’d do a lot more damage in a fight than you. And I don’t need my most valuable asset damaged.”

Atem was slapped across the face with too many emotions at once. 

Kaiba meant it in a caring way, but  _ Ra _ , did Atem hate the idea that he belonged to Kaiba. 

He wasn’t one of his stupid dragons, and he certainly wasn’t some kept boy.

He sat up, “Kaiba… are you, concerned for me? I’m touched!”

Kaiba just looked at him, his cold eyes piercing. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to, Atem’s entire body was sore enough already.

Atem dropped the act and smirked, “Anyway, I fucking hate this guy. What do I do?”

_ There must be something seriously wrong with him that he was asking  _ _ Seto Kaiba _ _ for relationship advice. _

The corner of Kaiba’s mouth tugged upwards, “Well, I just gave you what I’d consider a pretty good demonstration of how I handle situations with men I hate who are too cocky for their own good. Maybe you should follow in my footsteps.”

Atem swung his feet off the bed and made to launch himself at his friend, but the moment his feet tried to support his weight, he was forced to sink down onto his back once more.

Kaiba truly had him wrecked today.

He heard a smug chuckle from across the room.

“Dragon fucker.” He muttered, kicking a throw pillow at his boss’ head before closing his eyes.

***

Atem looked at Marik on the couch beside him.

Atem had his feet resting in the younger boy’s lap, while he easily worked through the algebra homework Marik had been assigned. 

Kaiba’s only condition for housing him was that he finish high school online, because ‘illiteracy looks good on no-one.’ 

Marik, of course, insisted that he was smart enough without needing the traditional side of things, and he probably was, since he somehow managed to get Atem to do his math work every week.

“I can’t believe you won’t let me just teach you to do these yourself.”

Marik laughed, “As if you don’t love doing them, Nerd. And why bother learning math when I can just make you do the math for me?”

He had a point there. It wasn’t as though Atem had put up much of a fight.

Atem rolled his eyes, “You know, you’re in one of the few professions where math is actually extremely useful for your career. It would  _ help _ . How do you think I got to the high ranking position I hold?”

“I reject your premise.”

“If you could solve complex fractions, you wouldn’t owe Kisara $600 for that deal you rushed last week.”

Marik groaned, “Touché.”

“I’m finished, anyway.” He handed the younger boy the computer, messing up his hair just to spite him, smiling at the scowl. “I’m gonna go get ready to go out. Noah’s bar just wouldn’t be the same without my ass.”

Marik nodded and clicked around on his laptop.

“Oh- by the way, Yami?” He said without looking up.

Atem had just gotten to his feet, he had to take these things slowly after the morning he’d had. The walk from the car to the front door had been  _ agony _ . 

He couldn’t help but smile at the name, Marik was the only one who didn’t make his alias sound ridiculous, “Yeah, buddy?”

Marik was still just absently typing away on his computer. Atem was highly suspicious he was not doing homework.

“If you think I believe for a  _ second _ that your  _ math skills _ are why Kaiba gave you such a high position here, you’re nuts. I think you must give one hell of a blowjob though.”

Atem stared. 

Forgot to breathe. 

Choked. 

Kaiba was going to break his neck if everyone knew.

He wouldn’t be walking straight for a  _ month _ .

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Now, Marik looked up, his soft lavender eyes narrowed at him – Atem couldn’t help but think about the burning amethyst that rested in Yugi’s, “Everyone knows, Atem. I went to visit the boss this morning and had to hear…  _ that _ . Jesus. Explains why you’re always covered in bruises and grumbling like an old man when you have to get up. Sucks though, because now I owe Kisara  _ eight _ hundred.”

Atem was still staring, he knew his face was red, knew he looked like a deer in headlights. Felt more like a roadkill beneath tires.

“Why do you owe her more?” He managed to stutter out.

“I thought Kaiba was just beating the shit out of you, she always said that Kaiba was beating your ass.”

Atem looked away. 

He didn’t think it was possible to blush any more than he currently was, his cheeks burnt so harshly he pressed the back of his hand to one to check it wasn’t literally on fire.  _ Great _ .  _ Just fucking great. _ He was going to punch Kaiba next time he saw him – and would probably get knocked unconscious for it as soon as Kaiba got his rocks off.

He glared at the frankly, ridiculous, taller than Atem, model of a white dragon with bright blue eyes that matched the boss’, all spikes, and teeth, and wings.

_ Dragon fucker. _

Atem cleared his throat, and attempted to look at though he wasn’t in a significant amount of pain as he walked away.

***

“Rum and coke.” Atem told the familiar face behind the bar, sinking  _ very _ slowly into his regular barstool.

Kaiba had well and truly done a number on him.

And now all of his friends knew. 

And talked about it. 

_ Fuck. _

He watched the people milling through the club, throwing back the drink immediately after it was handed to him.

Ironically, he’d met Seto Kaiba in this very bar when he was just 16. It wasn’t a very appropriate hangout for the man who oozed class and power, but he supposed that was probably the point, the anonymity of not knowing anybody, paired with the sense of superiority that nobody would dare approach the man in a perfectly tailored suit in a dark bar.

Well, nobody except Atem, _ of course. _

***

_ Armed with his fake ID and two weeks’ pay, he had ordered a vodka soda and not even been carded. _

_ Feeling confident and powerful, keenly aware of every eye in the place running over him, undressing him where he stood. He was already bored of them all. _

_ Or, he was, until his eye caught sight of the only man in the place who looked completely tired and unimpressed with every part of it. A young brunet man, dressed far too cleanly for this place, stirring a drink absently with a straw, just staring into the middle distance. _

_ Atem approached him, not oblivious to how good all the leather he had wrapped himself in made him look, the cold jewelry on his skin that his father would have literally killed him for framed his best features beautifully.  _

_ He looked down at the man, who was admittedly extremely handsome.  _

_ The kind of appeal that came from his attitude more than anything else, which wasn’t to say that the physical side of things wasn’t impressive.  _

_ The appeal of a challenge, a game.  _

_ He was utterly bored by everything in sight and Atem wanted to be the thing that changed it.  _

_ He wanted to light fires in this man whose entire being seemed to be shrouded in ice. He wanted fun tonight, he needed escape, needed to feel real. _

_ He challenged the young millionaire to a game of darts after very little small talk, not even an exchange of names.  _

_ Atem was good at darts, good at all pub games, honestly. It was an unfair contest, he’d known he would win from the moment Kaiba had nodded and stood. _

_ For some reason or another, Kaiba wanted to play, his eyes flashing at the challenge – the look shook Atem to the bone and went straight to his dick. It felt like looking into a mirror that could see through every part of him.  _

_ Kaiba insisted they play best two-out-of-three, and when he lost that, three-out-of-five. He was a sore loser. _

_ Atem had turned to him after winning the fourth game in a row, “You’re never going to beat me.” he said confidently, tone somber.  _

_ Whatever reaction he had expected to receive, the one he got was twenty times better. _

_ Kaiba’s ice-glazed eyes had flashed with an intensity Atem had never seen, he grabbed Atem by the hand roughly and dragged him outside – Atem couldn’t have stopped him if he’d tried - shoving him against the wall of the bar in a darkened alley, “Nobody beats Seto Kaiba, you hear me?” _

_ Atem liked his name, wanted to taste it, “I hate to rain on your parade, Seto Kaiba, but I just did- what, was it four times in a row?” _

_ Atem saw the fist coming for his stomach, plenty of time to react, but instead just tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and grunted when it connected. _

_ It was obvious Seto Kaiba hadn’t spent a lot of time hitting people, or maybe Atem had just spent too much time being hit. _

_ Regardless, Atem  _ _ loved _ _ it. _

_ “Feel better? Think you could beat me now? Maybe if you hit me again.” he teased, his grin so wide his cheeks were starting to ache, as he felt himself shoved harder against the wall by his collarbone. _

_ Kaiba’s huge hands and tall frame made him feel tiny, like he could snap him in half without trying, and Kaiba looked like he was considering it. _

_ Atem was panting, heart pounding, he felt so fucking alive. He wanted more. He wanted so much more. _

_ “I don’t think you could beat me if I was drunk AND blindfolded, Seto Kaiba.” He said as smugly as possible, through thick breath, he stared boldly into the aggressive blue eyes above him. They looked as though someone had sewn literal ice through them, glinting every time Atem used his name. _

_ Kaiba grabbed one of Atem’s hands and shoved it as high as it reached above his head, pinning it there with his own, he used his body to press Atem more firmly against the brick.  _

_ Atem could feel his skin tearing slightly where his shirt rode up. He could feel the blood flushing through his veins, his skin crawling and hot in the best possible way.  _

_ He wanted this man to dominate him.   _

_ He grinned, feeling Kaiba’s warm and hard body against every inch of his own. _

_ “You like a challenge, don’t you, Seto Kaiba?” Atem practically purred, the last distinguishable words to leave his mouth, before leather was torn over his head, confident hands worked tight pants down his thighs, and fingernails dragged roughly back up his tingling thighs. _

_ Atem spent the rest of the night being fucked like he was nothing by the richest 19 year old in the world, and he had never felt more alive. _

—

Atem smirked, remembering the lecture Kaiba had given him in the morning when the millionaire had finally risen. That while he was definitely interested in men as well as women, he had no romantic interest in Atem and did not intend to develop any.

Atem had told him that suited him just fine, and sucked his dick before breakfast.

Atem had quite a big debt to Kaiba growing on his conscience, but the thing he owed his life for was getting his heart beating again.

He was getting to the bottom of his drink when he saw bright purple blurring in front of him.

_ Oh, Ra. _

There, dancing on his own with a half-empty drink in his hand raised above his head, as though the rest of the world existed purely to watch him, was the ra-damned client that had been plaguing his mind for two whole weeks.

And  _fuck_ , did he look good.


	5. All Loaded Words and Bad Aim

Atem watched Yugi dance, his messy, ridiculous hair flinging into his eyes with every movement. He seemed extremely drunk.

But then again, Atem didn’t know him that well.

Or know him at all, really.

He couldn’t help but notice again, that he really did _not_ seem like a junkie.

Let alone a _heroin_ junkie, of all things.

He spent less than a minute debating what to do, before he sighed, standing and walking over to him.

“Hey Junkie.”

 

He grinned at him, wrapping a hand around his bicep, which was surprisingly firm and toned under his grip.

Yugi jumped very suddenly, flinging his hand away, dislodging Atem’s fingers abruptly, sending a shock along all of the bones in his hand.

“The fuck? What kind of ninja is 5ft tall?” Atem grumbled, rubbing the aching tips of his fingers, Yugi had jarred them somehow.

Yugi peered up at him.

 

“Atem? Oh my god. I’m sorry.” Yugi’s eyes were bright. He looked genuinely pleased to see him. “Here! Let’s go get ice from the bar. And hey- I doubt you’re any taller.”

“I’m almost 5’1,” he muttered.

“Uh-huh, huge difference there, you’re right. I’m basically one of the seven dwarfs and you’re the BFG,” Yugi told him as if he wholeheartedly believed it. _Dick._

He took him by the waist and pulled him towards the stools. Atem sat slowly _again_ and looked up at Yugi as he took a cube of ice and rolled it along his fingertips and palm.

Atem tried not to imagine the ice pressed to other parts of his body, Yugi’s cold fingertips on his skin.

He was ridiculously hot.

Especially when he was staring into Atem’s eyes like this.

Atem had wanted to keep him around since they’d first met.

But the kid was an addict, a fucking idiot.

He had to go and be perfect and screw it all up by shooting poison into his veins.

And for some reason, he couldn’t imagine just banging this dude and letting him go.

Yugi’s drug use pissed him off. Royally. Personally.

He was outraged by it. Deeply offended.

 

His eyes took in Yugi’s outfit slowly, he was wearing a singlet cut far too deep at the sides, the curve of the bottom of the ‘sleeve’ resting on his hip. One of his soft pink nipples were visible, as his body caused the shirt to sit twisted towards his left side, as well as a lightly toned chest and abdomen. Atem wanted to touch him and make him shiver, imaging the way Yugi would react if his fingers grazed over it.

Atem raised a hand and placed it where the lowest scoop of the sleeve hit, feeling how Yugi’s skin felt against his own, seeing how pale he was beneath Atem’s dark hand.

He glanced up and realised that Yugi was looking over his head at someone.

He turned to see who was getting _his_ attention, a ridiculous jealous sting in his chest, as a mixed drink with coke was set in front of him. Three cubes of ice.

He reached into his pocket for a note to pay, but Yugi shot him a harsh look, a clear and firm ‘no’ that wasn’t up for debate.

But Atem didn’t take orders- well, only from one man. And he was never in a position to disobey him.

“I don’t accept gifts.” Atem said, gritting his teeth slightly. He hadn’t when he _couldn’t_ afford things for himself, and he refused to purely on premise, now that he could.

“Well, the drink has already been poured and it’s on my tab.”

Atem groaned, glaring at the other man, “How old are you, 12? You can’t have a tab.”

Yugi slapped the top of his head sharply, the lower half of his palm just brushing it, “I’m 21, kiddo. You even legal to be here?”

Atem’s eyes widened, “Actually… I’m only 19.” Yugi was older. _Huh._ That was interesting.  Atem had assumed they were born around the same year.

Yugi smirked, “Just a baby then.”

“It’s two years, Asshat.”

Yugi actually burst out laughing. Atem loved it. Those cheeks flushed pink and his eyes shone happily. He resolved to make him laugh as much as possible, wondered how those eyes would look filled with happy tears.

“Asshat? That’s a new one.”

“Well, it’s what you are,” he muttered. “A hat. For asses.”

 

Yugi smirked, the calm settling back in his eyes.

“Is that your way of saying you hope I’m a top?”

_Oh, Ra._

Atem shoved himself to his feet, cringing at the burn that shot through his legs and lower back, Kaiba’s territorial markings flaring up. Frankly, feeling that didn’t do much to draw blood away from his dick. _I’m not your fucking pet, Seto,_ he thought sourly.

“Let me play you for the drink then.”  

Atem grinned, arms carefully resting against the counter. “Pool. If I lose, I’ll let you buy me as many drinks as you want.”

Yugi had a small smirk, almost identical to his own.

“Deal.”

“I gotta warn you, I’m damn good at pool.”

“So am I, Atem,” Yugi replied as he straightened his back, stretching. His entire posture screamed with his competitive nature.

 

He smirked, “Then let’s game.”

 

***

 

Atem placed the final ball and handed Yugi the cue. Mischievous eyes bore into Yugi.

“You can do the honors.”

“Why thank you, but first of all,” Yugi replied, matching Atem’s arrogance with his voice, his posture. “What do you want if I lose? Which won’t happen, I just think we should play a fair game.”

Atem scoffed, “You underestimate me. How about instead of prizes, each turn we get to ask each other questions? And we have to answer truthfully?”

Yugi looked at him with raised eyebrows, halfway through lining up the break shot. “20 questions? Are we 12 year olds at a sleepover?”

Atem groaned, feeling his cheeks burn. “C’mon dude, just- don’t be a coward.”

Yugi chuckled. “Fine. Questions,” he said. He took the shot, sending the balls scattering everywhere.

He managed to sink a blue little.

“Fluke,” Atem muttered, and watched Yugi take a second shot. He didn’t sink anything.

Atem took the cue handed to him. “You go first since you sunk one,” he said, bending to line up.

Yugi was silent for a few seconds. He started the questions. “Why do you sell drugs? You’re 19. You should be just out of school.”

“I don’t hear you complaining,” Atem said, frowning and biting his lip as he sent the ball gliding toward an edge and hitting an orange big. It sunk easily. _Math. This game is all math._ He smirked to himself, and walked around the table to pick his next shot.  

“That’s not an answer, Atem. Play by the rules.”

Atem smirked to himself. “Fine. My best friend is the boss. I get a free place to live, all expenses paid, for selling a few drugs and keeping the distributors on their toes by scaring the shit out of them, sometimes babysitting junkies who are tripping out of their fucking mind. It’s a job. I don’t have to wear some stupid uniform and the house is fucking badass.”

_If you ignore the 6 foot tall dragon sculptures._

 

“Hm.”

Yugi looked slightly pleased. Almost relieved. _Weird._

Atem missed his shot, cursed under his breathe in Arabic, handed the cue to Yugi.

“How do you know Katsuya?” he asked, blatantly staring at Yugi’s ass as he bent down to line up his shot. His black jeans hugged his figure perfectly.

_Atem wanted him._

He sipped at the drink Yugi had bought him, and watched Yugi sink three balls with one hit. _Ra, he was good._

Yugi answered quickly, “School. Known him since Freshman year. He was a dick. I called him out, he apparently respected that, apologised, started following me around at my heel. Ended up being a really cool dude.”

Atem nodded, “Did he get you into heroin?” He took the cue when Yugi didn’t sink anything.

“It’s my question. Learn some respect for your elders.”

Atem almost snorted at that, but figured it was a bad idea. Yugi had proven to be quite volatile in some of their meetings.

He leant down for his shot and inhaled sharply as pain ripped through him, his cheeks burned as Kaiba smirked from inside his head and he could feel Yugi looking at him curiously. He looked at the table. He had to catch up to Yugi.

“Anyway… who’s the girl who comes to all your deals,” Yugi asked, voice flat.

Atem raised his head at that, curious at the change of tone from Yugi. He smirked, he was _jealous._ “Her name is Mana. She’s been my best friend since the day I was born. I mean- she was born the same day as me. Our mothers knew each other.”

Yugi nodded, watching Atem sink one ball and miss the other he had lined for, he took the cue.

Atem rested his hands on the edge of the table.

“How did you know how to almost break my hand? Ninja School?” he asked, watching Yugi sink three balls with one shot again, his stomach twisted. He _never_ lost.

Yugi smirked up at him, “My grandpa taught me. He said that I was too small to use any kind of real self-defense, so he made sure I knew how to get the upper hand despite my size.” He told him, and sunk the white ball, groaning.

 

Atem snatched the cue, walking around the table and eyeing off the balls, trying to figure out the best way to catch up.

“That’s pretty cool, actually. Nice.” He shot and sunk two balls, one on each turn, then a miss. He handed the cue back to Yugi and watched him line up.

“My turn?” he asked, not looking at him, his eyes narrowed as he rested the cue between two fingers, _“Are_ you a top?” he asked, and sunk two balls in one shot.

Atem was lost for words, processing that, painfully aware of the ache in his body.

 _Fuck you Kaiba._  

He ran his eyes over Yugi’s ass, over his hips and along his waist. He caught Yugi’s eye, and reached across the table.

Atem grabbed the 8-ball and tossed it into one of the pockets at the end of the table, ending the game.

“Yes,” He replied, not technically untrue. He was definitely not up for the opposite again for at least a week, and he wanted Yugi’s ass, wanted to dominate this man who’d been driving him crazy for _weeks_.

 

He watched Yugi move closer to him, bobbing softly onto the balls of his feet, a hand touching his side, pulling him in. Atem could hear his heartbeat in every inch of his body, his feet tingled, his ears were warm, his throat felt like it was coated in honey. He slid one long arm around Yugi’s waist, ducked his head, and pressed their lips together.

The gentle kiss quickly escalated, Yugi’s lips were powerful and _bossy_ , soft and firm all at once, Atem felt them suck his lower lip in, tugging softly away from his face and not releasing for a few moments.

He half-opened his eyes to see Yugi’s doing the same, amethysts dancing in the dull light, they seemed to reflect more of the shadow than the light.

He shut his own eyes once more, and darted his face forward, attempting to continue the real kiss, his entire body just begging to be pressed against Yugi. His partner tugged backwards every time, teasing him, until Atem dropped the arm around his waist to snake around Yugi’s ass, he scooped him up and lifted him onto the edge of the pool table, before placing both hands under his thighs and roughly dragging him as close to the edge as possible. Atem stood between Yugi’s legs and kissed him, hard. 

 

Atem had never been more acutely aware of every part of his body, of the sounds his tight black pants made against the denim of Yugi’s, his tailored button-up gliding against Yugi’s skin. He pulled back, retreating for air, and Yugi’s hands, twisted through his hair tenderly, resting upon scalp burn ever so lightly, held his face close, their foreheads together.

Yugi’s breath was hot and harsh on his lips, Atem looked up through his lashes at Yugi, “ _fuck._ ” He breathed, looking down between their bodies.

Yugi was sitting back on his tailbone, his knees high, feet hooked around Atem’s waist, he was panting and sweating slightly – probably from the dancing earlier, but then again… - his ridiculous singlet was twisted almost entirely off his chest, his nipples hard and swollen. Atem wanted to touch them.

He panted, ducked in for a quick kiss and pulled back when Yugi tried to deepen it. Atem ran both hands up Yugi’s bare chest, the light muscles under pale skin, dark hands running up firm skin, he let the outer edge of his left hand brush past Yugi’s nipple, and the older boy _shook_ , his back arched forward, a moan dropped clumsily from between his lips.

Atem smirked, biting his lip, slowly dragging his hands back down nails first. He fixed Yugi’s shirt, smoothing it out so he was covered. He reached behind himself with one hand and carefully guided Yugi’s legs down. He smoothed out his own shirt and adjusted himself in his pants. _Fuck._

When he caught his breath finally, he looked at Yugi again, who had brought his feet together in front of him on the table, his knees high, arms around calves, he was _pouting_.

“There a problem?” Atem asked him slowly, dread setting over him. He can’t have been that bad, right? O _h Gods, his first real fucking kiss had better not have been that bad._

“You stopped kissing me. And- touching me.”

Yugi’s voice was husky and warm, and all Atem could think of was making him cry out his name _and_ unable to make a sound. 

Atem tried to figure out how to respond, licking his dry lips, the shaky inhale Yugi had hissed out when he touched his nipple still echoing through his mind.

Yugi looked like there was nothing he wanted more in the world than to sleep with him, and G _ods_ , he had denied it for too long.

“I think it’s my question- right?” he said finally.

Yugi rolled his eyes. Nodded. Panted.

“Are you ready to ditch this place and come home with me?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos are much appreciated :) <3 
> 
> Tumblr: manicpixiedreampharaoh.tumblr.com


	6. I Can't Fix You and You Don't Want Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nsfw. involves angsty, emotionally-constipated Atem.
> 
> trigger warning: marik

Yugi fucked with his entire body.

Whether that was sucking cock or being fingered, getting fucked or just desperate kisses paired with wandering hands, every inch of his body was involved, no matter what.

Atem learnt this quickly, with two fingers curled inside of him, watching his back arch, his head press firmly into the pillows, one hand gripping the sheets and the other fumbling behind him messily for headboard to ground himself.

His hips rolled back against Atem’s hand, feet pressing hard against the mattress to raise his ass off the covers.

Atem watched him moan and fuck himself on Atem’s hand, amused and turned on, feeling Yugi clench around him.

“Fuck- fuck me.”

His voice was like a Ra-damned symphony. Atem’s head swelled at the sound, the broken timbre of a usually very controlled voice, pride, at being the one to crack it.

“Not yet.” he said firmly, drawing his fingers back and pressing his thumb firmly against Yugi’s perineum, smirking at the sharp, sudden gasp.

“Atem.” His tone was harsh, bordering on warning, he released the headboard and pushed his torso upright elbows, fixing his eyes on him.

“Yes, Yugi?”

“Lay down.”

Atem wanted to refuse, to keep fingering him and to not let him up until he was sweating and begging for more, but _Ra_ , his eyes looked enticing.

There was so much sin in those half-lidded eyes and _Fuck_ , he was going to hell anyway, he might as well earn his keep.

He slowly removed his fingers and rolled onto his spine, bruises hugged gently by his mattress.

The lights were out, but enough moonlight flooded the room that Yugi’s skin held an ethereal charm as he climbed on top of him.

 

He rested lightly on the tops of Atem’s thighs, wrapping one hand around his cock, which twitched happily at the attention, a fine trail of liquid leaking from the tip.

Atem moaned softly and watched him, hypnotized by the hungry look in Yugi’s eyes as he _slowly_ flicked his wrist, his hand squeezing at the base and loosening as it reached the tip.

Atem needed to close his eyes, he could feel his hips bucking gently towards Yugi’s hand, but _Oh, fuck_ , he couldn’t bring himself to look away from those eyes, sinful eyes that resembled the finest wines, full of need, and power, and dominance.

And _fuck_ , he was going to cum already, just from a hand wrapped around his dick. _Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck_.

He tried to speak.

Stuttered instead.

Ra, it was like he was fourteen again, receiving a first ever hand-job hastily, in an empty classroom.

The burn was racing up both thighs, through his stomach, gathering in his groin.

“Yu- Yugi, I’m gonn-“

He grunted and thrust his hips up as Yugi’s hand _instantly_ released him.

Atem could have cried, he had been _so close._

Now, he closed his eyes, breathing deeply into his lungs.

Praying for the strength.

“Yugi-” he started.

He could almost _hear_ the smirk in Yugi’s voice, “yes?”

“Jus- Plea- Fuck. More.” His words were all rolling together, caught up in the desperate feeling in his body, the need to be touched, he reached down with his right hand, heart pounding, head full of clouds.

Before he could touch himself, ninja fingers grabbed his wrist and stopped it.

“Use your words.” Yugi’s voice was soft and quiet, but the firm demand behind it was axiomatic.

“I ca- Please-“

He was _begging_ for a fucking handjob.

 _Ridiculous_ , he half expected to hear Kaiba tease, _I thought I was the only man you begged._

He wished Kaiba would get the fuck out of his head for once.

“Open your eyes.”

Atem did as he was told, willingly, shaking his head softly to nudge the hair out of his left eye, he watched Yugi’s hand reach for his face and carefully brush it all to the side.

Atem panted softly, needing Yugi’s hands on him, rolling his cheek against his palm.

“You’re such a fucking tease.” He tried, hoping that fighting back might garner a reaction.

And, _Oh boy, did it get a reaction._

 

Yugi’s eyes darkened, his hand swept down to Atem’s jaw and forced it backwards, “Maybe you deserve it.”

Atem was returning to focus enough to formulate words. His neck ached from the pressure on bruises Kaiba had sewn, and _fuck_ , he just needed to get off.

“Tell me what you want.” Yugi’s voice was calm and encouraging despite the firm edge, and Atem felt a wave of appreciation, he was clearly trying to help him feel comfortable.

Atem shivered as Yugi’s finger slid down his stomach, along a hip bone and very lightly up the length of his cock.

There was so much he could say. He wanted Yugi to ride him, he wanted Yugi to kiss him, he wanted Yugi to keep jerking him off. He breathed heavily through his nose, looking at Yugi.

His mouth spoke before his brain could catch up.

_“Use your mouth.”_

“ _Good boy._ ” Atem’s entire body flushed with warmth at the praise, his dick twitching happily, before being engulfed by Yugi’s lips, parted over the head.

He moaned in pleasure, reaching down and weaving his fingers through Yugi’s hair tightly.

“Fuck, Yugi.” He mumbled sloppily, closing his eyes, enjoying the feeling of Yugi’s tongue pressing against the underside of his dick while his lips moved, he could feel his nose pressed against his skin, before his mouth slowly dragged off of the length of him, tongue slipping smoothly with it.

He felt a hand wrap firmly around the base of his cock while his tongue did incredible things to the head, pressing and swirling gently in a way that mirrored Atem’s mind, the warm, fulfilling feeling of pleasure he felt.

 

He gasped out of a shaky breath as Yugi’s tongue slid along the length again, before planting a gentle kiss against the tender skin of his balls, sucking one into his mouth, tongue soft and skilled.

Yugi moaned against his flesh and Atem’s hips shot up uncontrollably.

“Fu-uck,” he stuttered out, looking down at him.

Yugi’s eyes were trained on him, still soaked with lust and a mischievous glint.

He sat up slightly - Atem’s entire body wanted to _scream_ as it was hit with cold air where Yugi’s mouth had been - and wiped his mouth with his index finger.

“Don’t stop!” Atem tried to force Yugi’s head back down.

Yugi stiffened, resisting, he pulled Atem’s hand from his hair, “You just lost your touching privileges.”

Atem could see him fighting back a smirk, liked that smile and hated it.

Atem dropped his hands to his side, just needing him to keep going, and if there was one skill Atem had, it was being good in these situations.

_~~Kaiba had him well trained.~~ _ ~~~~

“Please?”

Yugi just quirked a brow at him, rubbing the thumb of the hand that still grasped his dick against the head.

Atem shivered.

_Ra, Yugi was bossy. More specific instructions, then._

“Please keep sucking my cock.” he managed.

 

Yugi was happy to oblige, and it took all of his strength not to reach for his head again.

Atem watched this time, as Yugi sucked him, a talented mouth performing the task as if it was made for it and nothing else.

Tiny laps of his tongue here, well timed moans sending vibrations along him there.

Atem felt like he was being given a gift from the gods.

But they weren’t here for a blowjob.

Atem lifted his hand to pull Yugi away, then thought better of it.

_He only wanted Kaiba’s bruises on his skin._

“Yugi- Stop…” He managed to croak, despite the protests of every inch of his skin.

Yugi did, almost immediately, sitting up.

Atem’s body gave a resigned heave, growing accustomed to the deprivation.  

 

He looked down at him, “You’re telling me to _stop_?”

His voice was sugar coated and thick, his lips wet and glistening with spit.

Atem took a slow breath, trying to stop the earth from spinning.

“Kiss me.” He murmured, his cheeks pink with embarrassment, he sat up slightly and keened when Yugi smiled warmly and met him halfway, their lips meeting hotly, a tongue that had been expertly wrapped around his cock now tracing the edges of Atem’s lips.

Atem brought his hands up to hold Yugi’s hips, shifting his own to adjust the space, he tried to lead Yugi to where he needed him, feeling his cock press against his entrance, twin handfuls of ass clutched in his hands.

Yugi stopped him.

“Condom.” he murmured against Atem’s mouth, before pulling away.

 

“Fuck- Yeah… You’re right, of course.” Atem managed, throwing his right hand towards the bedside table blindly, yanking it open unceremoniously - it slipped off the tracks for the wheel, he didn’t care - and fumbling inside.

His hand brushed past different edges, varying textures, until he heard the quiet crunch of foil under his fingers, he knocked the drawer shut and quickly unwrapped it, his hands fumbling in his eagerness.

He could feel Yugi watching him in amusement, and chose to ignore it.

 _Fuck you, Junkie,_ he thought to himself, fighting back the obvious joke, when he finally had it in place, the wrapper forgotten about.

He sat up and pulled Yugi’s lips to his once more, and it all happened at once.

Yugi guided himself over him, using one hand to lead Atem’s cock inside of him. He bit Atem’s lip _hard_ \- Atem was sure it would swell in the morning - and pressed the heel of his right hand hard against Atem’s hipbone to support himself, sinking it _directly onto the worst of the bruises._

The sound that left Atem’s mouth was almost inhuman, a catastrophic mew of sharp pain blurred into a loud moan of pleasure at the feeling of Yugi around his dick.

He had essentially conditioned himself to _love_ the pain in the bruises, the feeling of unrelenting pressure against tender skin, and _fuck,_ if he didn’t love it now.

 

Yugi was looking down at him, his chest heaving with loaded breath, they locked eyes and were still for a moment, relishing in the feeling of being so close.

A moment for Yugi’s body to adjust, and for Atem’s head to stop spinning.

Atem wanted to kiss him again, but before he could pull Yugi’s head back in, he begun to rock his hips slowly, the moan that escaped his lips was straight-up _filthy_.

Atem held the eye contact desperately, enchanted and seduced by this man who was riding his cock, steady, calculated rolls of his hips, gripping with muscles Atem had forgotten the feeling of.

~~If he didn’t hate him so much, he would probably never let him leave his bed.~~

 

_***_

 

Atem let go of Yugi, letting his torso fall softly onto the bed.

They were both panting heavily, Atem wasn’t sure if he could hear his own heartbeat, Yugi’s, or possibly a well-synchronized combination of the two.

His body was warm with sweat and satisfaction, he carefully pulled out of Yugi’s tender body and tied off the condom, tossing it away from the bed.

He could deal with _that_ in the morning.

 

He remained on top of Yugi for a moment, shifting their legs so that Yugi’s were between his, and moved gently onto his side, tugging Yugi to face him.

Yugi’s face was flushed, a happy smile parting his lips, tiny breaths puffing out.

Quite frankly, he looked fucking adorable.

Atem kissed him softly, his face too lazy for more, his entire body just wanted to curl around Yugi and purr like a cat.

Yugi’s eyes were half closed as he tucked his face against Atem’s chest.

Atem didn’t want to speak, to risk cutting a hole in the enchanted space the two of them were cohabitating.

It felt like some kind of purgatory, knowing that any wrong movement could tear it open, such was the nature of their ~~relationship~~ game.

But, he reminded himself, this was a once off thing.

Yugi wasn’t going to date him, and Atem didn’t want to.

Atem didn’t even like him, he just appreciated a fine ass and a pretty face.

~~And the first boy he’d ever kissed, Ra, he was sure he wasn’t going to regret his choice.~~

And so, the realm of their happiness, their mutual warmth and content, had to be cut open.

 

“Do you want a hit before you leave?” He asked, trying to keep his voice steady, hating the question and knowing the answer.

Hating himself for having a problem with it.

Yugi shifted in his arms, looked up at him, his chin resting against Atem’s chest now.

He watched Atem quietly before he responded.

“Sure- that’d be great.”

Atem felt the twinge in his chest before he could help it.

_What did you expect him to say? You thought he’d refuse free drugs after a cheap fuck?_

He felt so stupid for ~~thinking Yugi could have more than just lust for him. for hoping. For wishing.~~ thinking Yugi would have responded any other way.  
“Alright. Um, I gotta- the drugs are all- downstairs… I’ll be a few minutes.” He stood, gritting his teeth, quite literally chewing back all the things he wanted to ~~scream~~ say, and grabbed a pair of boxers from the dresser opposite the bed.

He slid them up his legs and glanced at Yugi, “Uh, just… stay here.” He managed, his lip throbbing gratefully upon being spared from his furious teeth, and left the room.

 

Atem shut the door quietly behind him, he padded down the hallway towards Marik’s room - he was fairly certain the boy was out with his boyfriend, like most nights - and opened the door tentatively.

 _Thank the gods,_ it was empty, the room vacant of all movement, but still the room of a teenaged boy. Atem was glad Kaiba had granted Marik the chance to remain young- or become young for the first time, really, after having that privalidge forcibly revoked.

Posters of bands he pretended not to know were slipping on their blu-tack, a messy stack of magazines close to falling from his desk, neon blue light casting kind shadows through the fish tank. He studied their silhouettes that were cast upon the opposite wall. _Yes,_ _he didn’t mind these shadows._

Atem wondered if Marik had taken his bike tonight, hoped he was enjoying himself.

Ryou made him happy, even if he was a terrible choice of a partner.

 

_Speaking of terrible choices for partners._

Kaiba’s snarky tone came from inside of his head. He rolled his eyes, and sat on the bed, pressing the heel of his hands into his eyes.

This was such bullshit.

He didn’t want to give a shit whether this guy left or not, but he did.

He couldn’t help it; this guy had stirred something in him he hadn’t known was there.

He would have used a dragon metaphor if the idea wouldn’t make Kaiba pop into his mind for a chat.

He groaned, and wished he could go and see him, rely upon his closest friend, but knew it was a bad idea.

For one, Kaiba would assume he was there for sex, and while he would respect Atem not wanting to,

Two, he would make fun of Atem for not wanting sex because of Yugi,

And Three, he didn’t want to admit what he was thinking out loud.

Seeing Kaiba right now would definitely be a bad idea, but then again, so had every other time and he still did it, and so Four; Atem had already let him too close.

 

Instead, Atem sat on the bed of his _other_ closest friend, a boy who was like a son to him, if only he wasn't so young that he should be a son himself, and thought about the man in his bed.

He could still hear the moans, the whimpers, the words.

He could still feel how it felt to kiss him, his lips still drunk from the touch.

_You cannot fall for the first person you kiss, you piece of shit._

Maybe Yugi would stay if Atem let him get high and then blew him.

 _Oh holy shit,_ Atem slapped himself on the forehead.

_Snap out of it, you loser._

He forced himself to head to the basement, grab some H for Yugi, and return to his bedroom.

He knocked softly three times before letting himself in.

Yugi was sitting cross-legged on the bed. He was wearing his singlet and a pair of soft grey boxer-briefs, the lights were on and Yugi was texting on his phone.

He didn’t look up.

Atem walked over and tossed the heroin in Yugi’s genera direction, turning to face the dresser, he dug through it, trying to find the loosest pair of pyjama pants he owned so Yugi wouldn’t need to put tight jeans back on.

He spotted the white dots of stars on dark blue, and pulled out the pants as he heard a tiny gasp from behind him.

He spun on the spot, brandishing the pants like a shield out of instinct, he looked at Yugi, who was standing beside the bed now, staring at him.

“What in the ever-loving _fuck_ happened to your body?”

 

Atem could see Kaiba’s smirk in his head.

“I don’t know what you mean.” he said, shooting a glare towards the _only_ dragon reference he had ever allowed to enter his bedroom, a tiny model of the white dragon, decked out in faintly blue armour.

A birthday gift from Kaiba. ~~Well, alongside the bruised rib.~~

“You’re literally covered in bruises, Atem.

Atem shrugged, “yeah, well, it’s kind of none of your fucking business, right? I gave you some good dick and some _damn_ good heroin, the shit you definitely can’t afford, so be grateful and shut the fuck up.”

He couldn’t stop himself, a defensive nature that had been ground into his bones by stone for years wrapping around him, like ghostly wings defending him.

~~It wasn’t like Yugi really cared, anyway. Morbid curiosity for a dead boy’s body was not the same as giving a shit.~~

But amethyst eyes were glaring at him now, there was something behind them he couldn’t quite place, a decision being tossed around, defiance and rage, before he turned away and sat on the bed.

 

“Fine, I’m shutting up.” he picked up the needle, and Atem felt sick to his stomach.

He couldn’t watch this, couldn’t face the reality of seeing the person he ~~kept dreaming about~~ had just slept with shooting up, he turned away, kicking at a discarded shirt on the floor.

He heard a soft click of Yugi’s mouth opening, a _very_ shaky breath.

_Must have been close to withdrawing, it’s been at least three hours since he’s had a hit._

Atem looked at him, “Do you need a ride home? I can call someone.”

Yugi’s eyes glinted up at him, slightly too wide, he didn’t look… right.

_Well, he did just take heroin._

“An uber would be great.” Yugi murmured, and patted the bed beside him once Atem had requested one, placing the empty needle on the bedside table.

Atem eyed him off hesitantly but sat obediently nonetheless.

Yugi’s hand caught his chin and he kissed him.

Atem, hating himself and hating Yugi, but _oh, Ra, his lips felt soft and this was how he had dreamt kissing would feel_ , let him, responding to Yugi’s soft presses and movements, revelling in the feeling of his tender lower lip being sucked between Yugi’s.

He tried not to think of the poison in his veins.

 

“I’d like to do this again. You’re something else.”

Yugi’s tone was so confident, so knowing, and it shot straight to Atem’s dick.

He narrowed his eyes, “I bet you would.”

“You know; I don’t actually have any ulterior motive here. I liked being with you. I rarely make a habit of sleeping with the same guy twice, and I want to see you again.”

Atem scoffed, “You’ve got cards on yourself, kid. Who says I want to see your ass again?”

_~~He actually wouldn’t mind being introduced to Yugi’s cock, if he was being honest.~~ _

“I don’t have any- I’m not overly confident, I can just recognise when there’s something good going on, and from the way you always stare at me like a lost puppy, I’d say it’s a mutual feeling, so stop acting so tough and say you’ll see me again.” Yugi’s tone was softer than he’d ever heard it, but Atem knew all of the games, he could hear the manipulation behind it.

He could bluff his way through this, too.

“Okay, sure. We’ll discuss it next time I bring you drugs.”

Yugi smiled brightly and stood, pulling Atem to his feet too.

“It’s a date. Well- not a date, a plan. For future sexcapades.”

 

Atem just stared at him with blank eyes.

Yugi’s cheeks flushed - _~~Oh, god, Atem… more…~~ \- _and he rubbed at the back of his neck, “Um, well- I’m going to go. I’ll text you.”

“Yugi? Maybe you should listen to all the experts and actually wait three days before you message me.” The feathers that lined the bones of Atem’s wings ruffled.

Yugi grinned at that, took a step towards him that was more like a skip – it reminded him of Mana - his arms hooked around Atem’s waist, and he kissed him again.

Atem kissed him back and didn’t stop, somehow ending up with his back against the cold glass of the sliding door, Yugi’s lips on his throat.

A sudden, hard bang from the other side sent them both jumping away, turning to face it.

And there was Marik, soft blonde hair, eyes like lavender, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face, his eyes locked on Yugi.

_In the name of all that is holy-_

He was never going to hear the end of this.

“Uh- Yugi this is my… co-worker, Malik.” (He decided it was better to use the code name- it wasn’t as if it was a huge departure from the real thing. Kaiba was never particularly good at them.)

“He’s an asshole,” he continued, unlocking the door and sliding it open, grunting as Marik hugged him, heavily hanging off his shoulders.

“ _Who’s your boyfriend?”_ came the quiet hiss in his ear, before he shoved Marik off of him.

“Malik, this is Yugi. He’s none of your business. Uh- you should go, Yugi, um, thank you.”

 

Yugi nodded, “I’ll text you. Thanks, for the heroin.” he seemed like he wasn’t sure how to deal with this encounter either.

Atem watched him leave, only closing the door once Yugi reached the pavement of the footpath.

He locked it and closed the blinds, before turning around to find Marik sprawled across his bed, head hanging off the edge watching him.

“So, give me the gossip, when are you getting married?”

Atem glared, picked up a shirt.

“Seriously, you were _kissing_ him.”

He pulled it over his head, tugging on the bottom to straighten the material.

“-like, really kissing him, I could _see your tongue,_ it was _gross-_ ”

Atem tossed a shoe at him, attempting to throw the disgusting, used piece of latex from the floor into the bin subtly.

“-I can’t wait to tell Ryou- my old man is finally growing up, had his first kiss and everything!”

Atem walked over to him, silent.

“Kisara and I might bake you a cake. I’m absolutely delighted for y-”

Atem had him by the throat, cutting off his windpipe.

“Gonna shut up?”

Marik nodded, somehow maintaining a smirk despite having his air supply compromised.

“You promise?”

“Yes!” Marik’s voice was almost a squeak, and he rubbed his neck furiously when Atem released him.

~~Games, they were all just playing games.~~

“Fine, fine, I’m going,” he whined as he stood, swiping the Gameboy from beside Atem’s bed, he walked over to the door, “But seriously, I’m proud of you. I hope it was good.”

Atem’s other thrown shoe hit the door with a loud bang, echoed by a vague, threatening sounding call from down the hall, Kisara’s voice sharp and bossy and cutting through the night.

Atem threw himself onto his bed, ~~thought about Yugi~~ , and cursed.

_He needed to be in Kaiba’s bed right now._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i tripped and wrote smut oops


	7. Stuck Between A Coyote And A Cement Wall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit longer.  
> Chapter length is going to start increasing now that plot is getting involved. :)

Atem’s hands slipped on the cold railing, he grit his teeth and forced his arms to lift his body, hoisting himself over the bannister of the balcony and dropping to his feet on the other side.

He could easily have just asked the security member to let him in, but that would have been too boring, and Kaiba could have refused to let him in.

He pulled his clothes off, tossing each item haphazardly across the balcony for the sake of irritating Kaiba. The man enjoyed his ordered existence, and Atem just _loved_ to fuck with it.

The cold air hit his body like razor blades, and he relished it in for a moment, the wind slicing his thin skin against brittle bones, he sighed contently and walked to the doors, he pushed lightly on them to make sure they weren’t locked.

They weren’t. Typical.

Six attempts on his life through this balcony in the last year, and he still didn’t bother locking them, as though the assassins had no hope in succeeding, and so he needn’t bother trying to thwart them.

Atem placed a hand on each of the doors, and stood tall, he threw them both towards the rooms, sending them banging into the walls loudly, air loudly swooping into the room.

“You are nothing if not predictable.” Kaiba’s voice was groggy, sleep drunk and thick, the sarcasm barely managing to creep through.

“You’re wrong.” Atem said, padding towards the bed where Kaiba’s figure was raising to sit up, one hand rubbing at his eyes, “I’m nothing if not a showman.”

Kaiba snorted, “Dork. You’re not making a habit of showing up unannounced, but you’re lucky I actually wouldn’t mind a fuck right now.”

Atem looked at him silently before lifting the covers and slipping beneath them, he pulled them up over half of his face, snaked one arm out and around kaiba’s upright waist and gave a gentle tug.

“Sh, sleepin’.”

Kaiba looked at him, incredulous.

“Atem-“

“Seto, i’m sleeping. And you are going to lay the fuck down and let me spoon you and not say one more word if you want your dick sucked in the morning.” Atem said in a friendly tone, his eyes already closed.

He heard a sigh, then a soft, single syllable laugh, and the mattress shifted under him, Kaiba’s broad, warm back spreading in front of him.

Atem slipped his arms tighter around him, pressing his chest against his spine and tucking his face into the nape of his neck.

He pressed a kiss there.

“Goodnight, Seto.” He murmured, and let the shadows take him.

 

***

 

“You’re spending the morning with me.”

It wasn’t a question, or a request, it was an order.

Atem looked at Kaiba, masking the curiosity with stubbornness, raising his chin at him defiantly, still wrapped up warmly in silken sheets. It had been a nice morning so far, lazy and slow, he wasn’t accustomed to resting here but it felt like second nature.

“Why? I have shit to do.” _Yeah, like ignore Yugi’s messages,_ he thought as he heard the phone buzz for the second time that morning.

Kaiba was clearly not in the mood for his shit, standing in the doorway of the room.

“Because I pay your rent. And keep you employed. And ask nothing of you.”

Atem snorted, “I wouldn’t say nothing, Dragon Fucker.”

And then Kaiba snapped.

A fist slammed roughly down against the wall behind him, sending pencils fleeing for the edges of the nearby desk, framed artwork on the walls shaking violently.

~~Atem thought about that fist being smashed into his skull. Wanted it.~~

“I’m sorry, Atem, but did you become a dragon and not tell me? Because, believe it or not, the only thing i’ve fucked in the last year is _you_.”

Atem couldn’t hold back his amusement, ~~quietly gleeful at the idea that kaiba was his, and his alone~~. He laughed out loud.

“You wish, don’t hold your breathe that i’ll ever give in to your furry bullshit.”

 

The tension left from Kaiba’s shoulders, Atem knew he was smiling, though he had turned to retrieve the pencils from the floor.

~~Kaiba had once told him that he would never need a massage again, that Atem managed to work every ounce of stress from his body through his easy nature. It was one of the sweeter moments they had shared.~~

“So, we have to leave by ten. You should probably take a shower.”

Atem sat up suddenly, “I can _shower_?” His eyes were wide, eyebrows raised, “Holy fuck, Kaiba, i’m allowed to shower??”

All bets were off.

This was a development. He’d always had to rush home and into the shower before anybody else could notice, also, Kaiba’s shower was a fucking _dream_.

He wanted to live in that thing.

“Now you aren’t. Get back to the Kemet house and i’ll send a car to collect you at 9:30 sharp.”

He was sitting at the desk now, scribbling furiously on a piece of paper, Atem wondered if it was actual work or just a frustrated stream of words.

~~He had sifted through papers on Kaiba’s desk while he was asleep one night, ended up so wrapped up inside his head that he couldn’t stop. The torn out and neatly stacked papers weren’t work, they were… the closest he imagined Kaiba could come to a diary. Rows upon rows of notes on things, from ancient history to math equations. Private studies for personal benefit, rather than forced learning from a cruel man.~~

He approached and slid his hands down Kaiba’s shoulders, leaning down, his lips brushed the edge of his earlobe, he scraped his teeth lightly along it.

“I _really_ think that you should let me shower here.” he closed his eyes, feeling Kaiba’s body relax beneath his hands as he leant back into the chair.

There was hesitation, as though Kaiba was having an argument with himself.

“...I don’t keep you here to think.”

“I’ll blow you for a shower.”

“You’ll be doing that regardless.”

Atem grinned.

“Probably.” he bit sharply into the tender skin of Kaiba’s ear, the body under his hands jolting suddenly, his grin grew wider when Kaiba’s hand reached up and yanked sharply at his hair, “But i would _love_ a shower.”

A heavy sigh came, “Hurry up about it, and if you say a word before you’re on your knees when you come back, i’m going to cancel your credit card.”

Atem grinned, bit into Kaiba’s ear once more, before giving a long, deliberate suck on the inflamed flesh for good measure, and hauled ass to the shower before Kaiba’s stupidly long legs managed to connect with his ass from a deliberately aimed kick.

 

***

 

“So where are we going, Boss?” Atem asked, wiping his lips before licking them, he looked up at Kaiba, hands automatically tidying up after himself - tucking him away, zipping his pants up.

Kaiba sighed heavily, _Ungrateful asshole_ , and ran one hand affectionately through Atem’s hair.

He felt like glowing, or purring. Glared instead.

“Not that it matters, but I have a meeting with the Bandit.”

Atem frowned, pushing himself to his feet, he dropped a knee between Kaiba’s legs, let his weight drop onto it, elbows propping him up around Kaiba’s head.

He leant down, above him.

“You’re taking me to meet _him_?” His tone was steady, but he wasn’t feeling quite so confident. His boss was rather unpredictable today.

Kaiba had always been very particular about not letting Atem be in a room with the man. Excuse after excuse about Atem being too dumb, or too valuable, or too weak, to risk the _Great King of Bandits_ knowing his face.

He had always taken Kisara, and she had told Atem that the guy was no big deal, just a jerk with a big ego.

But this was the man Kaiba had a long-standing rivalry _and_ business relationship with, one of the very few people Kaiba dealt with directly.

Kaiba’s insistence upon Atem accompanying him was very strange. Almost concerning.

Kaiba was looking up at him, hands still on his own thighs.

He seemed to want Atem to know this was important.

“I need you to listen to me, for once.”

Atem chewed on the inside of his cheek, considered a snappy comeback, but decided this was momentous enough of an occasion to _not_ act like an asshole.

He raised his eyebrows at Kaiba, a silent ‘ _go on’_

“The Bandit King is not a pleasant man. He doesn’t look like much, but he is not someone to take lightly. You need to be silent, and I know how difficult that is for you when there isn’t a cock in your mouth to force you to be quiet - and even _that_ hasn’t proven entirely effective - but _Christ,_ or _Horus_ , or whatever bullshit you want to say, if you say a fucking word to him, you could be killed. And I can’t stop him.

“So, we are going to go into his office, you’re not going to look around, or touch anything, or even sit down unless you are invited to, and you are going to stand there and look pretty while the grown-ups talk business. Then we are going to leave, and your lips are going to stay closed.” His tone was steady, familiar, but his eyes held a vigour and seriousness that Atem wasn’t accustomed to.

He felt unsteady.

Atem dropped his elbows and sat back on his knee.

“And then we’re coming back here and you are going to have lunch with Mokuba. He’s been asking about you.”

 

Atem smiled faintly, he hadn’t had time to visit the younger Kaiba for a few weeks.

For now, though, he needed to break through this tension, hating the intensity of Kaiba’s gaze.

“Would you cry if the Bandit killed me?” An easy tease.

Kaiba placed one hand on the centre of Atem’s chest, his thumb pressed against the easily available sternum, he shoved Atem off his lap into an unceremonious pile of bones on the floor.

“I don’t think he’ll have a chance, with the way you’re going, i’ll kill you myself.”

Atem grinned, “I wish.”

 

***

 

**!!!**

“Can you tell me why you’re meeting with him?” Atem asked, leaning lazily into the corner of the limo, the leather soft against his bare shoulders.

He had worn a pair of Kaiba’s jeans that fell down his hips every time he had moved, and when they arrived at the Kemet house, Kaiba had helped him choose an outfit.

He had expected him to veer him toward vaguely business casual attire, but here he was, his most disgraceful pair of black jeans hanging off his legs, a deep v-necked button up, hot pink with black flowers scattered over it. He looked scruffy and untidy, something Kaiba usually despised on business occasions. 

Kaiba just glanced at him without turning his head, unimpressed.

“I mean, obviously i’m going to find out anyway, but I want to know _now_.”

Kaiba didn’t deign to look at him this time, “I cannot believe how much time I spend with such a petulant child.”

**!!!**

Atem smirked, “Don’t talk about Mokuba like that.”

“Yami? Shut up.”

Atem tilted his head.

Pouted slowly. Deliberately.

He pulled himself across the seats to sit beside Kaiba, draping his fingers across his sleek upper thigh.

Kaiba ignored him.

**!!!**

Atem curled his fingers, watching the material fold into itself.

He dragged his hand higher up his thigh, applying pressure.

Kaiba’s eyes closed and his lips parted, but he remained silent.

**!!!**

“Tell me, Seto.”

Kaiba looked down at his hand witheringly, “I’ll have you know that any and all attempts to seduce me on your part lost their appeal around the time you tore off your clothes because I told you I hated you.”

Atem squeezed his thigh, “I don’t need to seduce you.” he could feel the suggestion dripping from his own tongue, pressed it against Kaiba’s throat and slowly dragged it upwards, driving it into his skin.

His tongue flicked along a sharp jawline, before his teeth replaced it, catching tight skin and clenching it between them, a soft moan snuck out of Kaiba’s throat.

Atem smirked.

“Tell me.” he repeated, tugging at the piece of skin.

**!!!**

“Would you check that thing already?” Kaiba shoved him away suddenly, a hand casting him away without a thought.

His cheeks were flushed, eyes still closed.

Atem almost whined, glancing at the neglected phone that buzzed urgently on the opposite seat.

He picked it up.

_Six new messages from Yugi._

He shrugged and placed it back down.

Back to business.

“Set-”

“Don’t.”

“...”

“...”

“…”

“…”

“Okay.”

 

***

 

The car stopped without the slightest movement, the change in Kaiba’s nature the only thing alerting Atem that they had arrived.

Atem looked through the heavily tinted window at the dark grey tower they had pulled up alongside.

A large, deep red ‘KE’ was emblazoned across the doors, the inside of the building appeared to be a similar colour scheme, dark and alluring.

Atem felt like he belonged there, the place reeked of debauchery and sin, it crawled under his skin and licked at his bones, luring him closer.

As they entered, Seto’s hand came to rest on the small of his back, Atem felt warm, dim lights kissing his skin.

He wanted to get fucked here.

Shit, even getting high seemed like a great idea in this place.

He looked at the leather couches, deep, soft leather, the kind that nursed weary bones and the scars of the heartless. He wanted to sink into one and never rise again.

The lights were like eyes, observing and judging, taking everything in while draping it all in a dull glow that raised an excited chill in atem's bones.

The King of Bandits had _excellent_ taste.

 

“Stop enjoying it.” The voice was accompanied by a dig of nails beneath his shirt.

He smirked at kaiba, “It's a cool set-up. You could take notes.”

“Didn't I tell you to not speak? The Bandit will rip your throat out with his teeth. And _no_ , i'm not exaggerating. I’ve seen him do it.” Kaiba’s voice was distant, almost rehearsed.

Atem ignored him and hummed quietly, still admiring the beautiful decor. This place felt like it was where his soul should dwell, some darkness inside of him never wanted to leave, intoxicated by the dark and hypnotic nature of the room.

Maybe it was where his soul was born, instead.

 

“Keep your dick in your pants, Yami.” Kaiba’s tone was sharp, “I know this place is exactly on brand with your little gothic fetish and you just want to jerk off over all of it, but, I implore you to save it for _your_ bedroom.”

Atem smirked at him, “I’m starting to think you kept me away from here because you knew I’d appreciate it more than your place.”

Kaiba rolled his eyes, “Actually, I was concerned I wouldn’t be able to drag you away. And you are not helping to reassure me. You and the Bandit are exactly the same.”

 _That_ snagged Atem’s attention. The Bandit King was an earned title, stories of him were swapped like old wives tales, what Atem had always _assumed_ were exaggerations, whispered about in bars and drug dens.

“We are?”

Kaiba spoke with an air of exhaustion, “I barely even knew you when he first had this place decorated, and the second I saw those _tacky_ vases, I knew it was exactly your domain.”

Atem glanced at them, anatomic hearts carved from resin, sporting red roses. He scowled internally, they were _cool._

“And he’s just like you. A complete lunatic without a lick of self control. He’s a train-wreck waiting to happen. You just happen to have _infinitesimally_ more class and brains.”

“Afraid i’ll leave you for him?”

Kaiba snorted, “Yami, the second you went to his side, you would kill each other. If you’re some kind of satanic cat, he’s a coyote. He tears everything apart and then eats the scraps, leaving the bones as some kind of sick display.”

“Hm,” Atem muttered, walking with him up the beautiful, Victorian black staircase, “He sounds fucking sexy.”

 

***

 

The King of Bandits was a mess of cloak, bare feet crossed at the ankle atop a dark wooden desk, his head lazily draped backwards off of his shoulders as though he didn’t even care enough to raise his head to look at them.

What Atem _could_ see of his skin was only describable as _impure_. scars littered over rough feet and ankles, the largest of which adorned his cheekbone, leading into one striking eye.

His skin was almost a mirror image of his own, while Atem’s had been pounded and bruised to the point of tenderness, the Bandit’s had been scarred and torn into roughness.

He held a certain bored look about him, similar to the one Kaiba wore, but behind it sat a brand of morbid curiosity rather than the intensity and determination that his boss held.

Atem couldn't describe him, the only words that would ever come close were along the lines of _lewd, and vulgar._

His skin was almost as dark as Atem’s own, though the matte charcoal of the fabric that was draped around him set quite the contrast.

Kaiba’s hand left Atem’s spine for the first time since leaving the limousine, as he took his seat.

Atem could feel the Bandit’s eyes on him, felt like a prize at a fairground, being sized up.

He rested a hand on the arching spine of the ink black chair, beside Kaiba’s head.

The bandit’s gaze was intense, but after three years of staring down Seto Kaiba, it was virtually nothing to him. He held the connection with a brazen kind of confidence, he was accustomed to being undressed visually.

It was the other thing in those eyes that was unsettling him.

“I must say, your newest choice of company is certainly an improvement.” His voice was harsh, words almost spat out with a viscosity that one didn’t expect from such a calculated kind of power.

He sat up, material shifting loudly and falling away from his neck, revealing more marred skin, a cut on his chin.

 

“Yes, well, I figured with your pathetic bondage obsession you’d appreciate him. But we have business to attend to, Short Stack.”

Kaiba’s tone was painfully derogatory, Atem fought to keep his eyes from widening, looking down at the man sitting below him.

_Atem wasn’t allowed to speak in case he pisses him off, but Kaiba can talk to him like he’s trash off the street?_

He glowered and looked back at the now glaring, white haired man.

He _was_ short, he noted.

“You’re charming as ever, Kaiba. I’m not really in the mood for your crap, so you should get the fuck out of my building before I have you thrown out. Unless you want to lend me your boy for awhile.” A laugh, then, “There’s space under my desk, we could even continue our discussion while he works.”

Atem’s heart froze, he clenched his teeth and forced himself not to recoil.

~~Ignoring the piece of him that wanted to go to him. Apathy in the face of certain death is a bitch.~~

“He’s not for sale. He’s mine.” Kaiba’s tone was still steady, with an air of self importance.

Atem made a noise under his breath and spoke up, “No, i’m not.”

He saw Kaiba’s shoulders bunch up under him, pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

 _And this, Atem, is why you are not invited to business meetings, fuck you very much,_ He could almost hear Kaiba snap.

“Bakura, you can do _whatever_ the fuck you want, as soon as you tell me what i want to know.”

Kaiba’s entire demeanour had changed, he was hunched slightly forward, his shoulders tensed, hands curled around the arms of the chair.

There was a hint at desperation in his eyes, sneaking past his defences.

Atem could hear the tiny change in his breathing, so finely tuned to his friend that he could notice, able to feel the restless energy rolling off of him, radiating into him.

Atem rocked on the balls of his feet at the feeling.

_What the fuck was going on._

 

The Bandit - _Bakura_ \- gave a lazy grin, his teeth bared in his direction – _Ra, did he have fucking fangs? -_ eyes still not leaving Atem’s.

“He’s in England.”

“England is a big place.” Kaiba’s voice was quick, clipped.

Bakura rolled his eyes, “I’m bored of you.”

Atem could feel the tension in the room, the words came quickly from both parties, but each of them had a firm purpose behind them.

Bakura’s effortless hunt for _Ra knows what_ , clashing violently with Kaiba’s anxiety, the pressure rolled through his body and crushed him.

He felt like he could fall to the ground at any second, his lungs closing in on themselves, his vision quivering.

Atem gripped the chair harder. Heard a scraping sound distantly.

“I’ve been bored since i walked in here, but you have information I need.” Kaiba said, his tone different now.

Atem saw the hair in front of him turn, Kaiba was looking up at him now.

He didn’t care, his knuckles were going white.

_Fuck._

Everything was white.

He closed his eyes to bring back the darkness, and heard more words.

And then just sound.

And then felt tearing.

And then the ground.

An ankle in his hand.

And then... nothing.

 

***

 

When he opened his eyes again, Seto was on his feet, staring straight at him.

His mouth was slightly open, his eyes looked afraid. _Concerned._

_Terrified._

His hands were curled into claws, the tendons bulging out, each finger twitching independently.

His lips were quivering.

_He had never seen him like this._

Atem struggled to register anything outside of Kaiba.

His feet were off the ground, something was wrapped around his biceps.

Hands. He was being held up by somebody.

He eventually realised Bakura was walking towards him, and Kaiba had been right, this guy was as short as Atem.

The hands that held him were buried too tightly into his flesh, cold hands. He wanted them off him, felt disgusting beneath them, wished that his clothes were thicker so he couldn’t feel the skin against his own.

He felt like he was rotting in his skin.

“ _Wisix,_ Put me dow-”

“Shut up!”

Bakura’s voice was menacing, Atem did as he was told.

 

He was directly before Atem now, and despite Atem having a height advantage from being suspended, he still held a slight intimidation.

Hunter eyes.

His hand caught Atem’s chin and tilted his head back, rough, dirty fingers examining his bruised throat without caution.

“You haven’t been taking very good care of your boy, Kaiba.”

Atem swallowed painfully, it felt like someone was pouring acid down his throat, “I’m not his boy.”

Bakura grinned, “I like you.”

Atem looked at Kaiba, who seemed frozen to the spot.

He hadn’t moved, there was a tiny noise coming from him. It was like breathing, but not quite.

He was a cement wall, dead to them all.

Atem looked back at the Bandit King and swallowed, hard.

He had one hand on a knife, a sharp blade that was far prettier than it ought to be.

Atem panted softly as the blade was rested lightly on the centre of his lower lip. He kept his eyes on Bakura.

If he looked at it, he wouldn’t be able to do it.

He licked his lips, his tongue skirting over the blade.

“Do you want me dead more than you want to fuck me?” Atem asked.

There was nothing inside of him.

It was an aching kind of numb.

He thought of Yugi.

Nothing.

His heart thumped in his chest.

 

Maybe he’d die here.

This was the kind of place he’d love to die.

Bakura was grinning at him, his face dark, “Who ever said I wanted you dead? That’d be too good for you.”

Atem stared.

“You can do whatever you want with me.” He said in a quiet voice.

He hoped that men like Bakura didn’t want willing prey.

He was so fucking wrong. Gods, was he fucking wrong.

“Do you think Kaiba would want to watch?”

Atem shifted his eyes to the cement wall in the centre of the room. He still hadn’t moved.

“I don’t think Kaiba could give any less of a fuck. He brought me here, didn’t he?”

Once he had spoken them, his heart stung with the realisation that he believed it.

Maybe Kaiba wanted him hurt even more.

Maybe he was here to trade him for whatever information he was looking for.

Kaiba looked like he was screaming.

Atem was.

Bakura had dropped the knife, grabbed him by the throat and thrown him to the floor.

His filthy foot pressed Atem’s face against the black carpet.

“How about we test your theory?” Bakura was still grinning. He wouldn’t put those fucking fangs away. Atem was still screaming.

His lungs were so full they would burst at any moment.

Atem felt his clothes being cut away from his body, lay there in just his underwear.

 

“Doesn’t he even _feed_ you?” Bakura laughed over Atem’s screaming, his eyes landed on the bandaged strip of thigh. Atem could feel his gaze, then felt his heel drive into it.

Blood soaked the bandage and ran down his thigh.

Atem screamed.

Bakura grinned with his fangs and his eyes.

Kaiba was still.

Atem wondered if he was breathing.

He couldn’t find it in himself to be angry this was happening to him. He was a pawn, a homeless waste of space who didn’t want to be alive, it was what he was here for.

A punching bag.

He twisted, dragged himself onto his elbows.

He looked up at the Bandit King, vision almost completely blocked by his hair.

He wasn’t sure if he was screaming or not.

The gold chain around his neck was grabbed, pulled tight, yanking him to his feet.

Atem stared into the eyes of Bakura.

He thought of Yugi’s eyes this close. Thought of soft lips on his.

He was shoved onto the desk, bent onto it, his elbows catching him, the knife against his throat.

He swallowed and felt a sting as it pierced his skin.

Bakura jerked it across the length of his throat sharply.

Atem closed his eyes and coughed, his chest felt like it was made of toothpicks, thousands of individual pricks on the inside of his body as it was yanked to face the other direction.

He thought of Yugi.

Imagined soft lips on his, felt them.

And then the lips were wild, violent.

_Wet. Tasted like pennies._

Atem opened his eyes and stared into the face of death while he kissed him.

The blackness poured from his eyes.

 

*

 

**

 

***

 

**

 

*

 

“Would you mind cutting it out already?”

The voice was distant, and sweet.

Kind, heavenly.

Atem hit the floor roughly.

His mouth was wet, his chest tight with the feeling of drying blood.

Every tiny movement stung. It felt like his head was hanging by a thread.

He looked up at the small frame, wrapped up in a soft fur coat, white hair floating serenely around his gentle face.

Atem took the small hand when it was offered to him, was lifted to his knees.

His eyes were so blurred, so unfocused-

He could feel himself drifting away again.

He tried to fight for consciousness.

_Kaiba, where was Kai-_

Saw the blood stained through the fur and against a pale cheek.

The heavenly person who had caused Bakura to end his game smiled kindly.

“You’ll be okay.”

Atem nodded, believed him.

Went to sleep.

 

***

 

**

 

*  

 

**

 

***

 

The pain that was burning through a familiar muscle in his thigh was more bothersome than anything.

Atem had forgotten how accustomed he had grown to this, to waking up in pain and accepting it.

He opened his eyes and looked down.

His eyebrows raised. He hadn’t expected to see Kaiba himself, kneeling beside his bed, hands gloved, delicately cleaning the re-opened stab wound.

His touch was soft, reassuring.

It made Atem uncomfortable.

“ _Damn,_ ” Atem murmured, his voice cracked and his throat stung, “Not dead, then.”

Kaiba’s head snapped up, his eyes viciously hard, rougher than Atem had ever seen them.

He stared holes in Atem’s head.

Atem swallowed.

“Marik is outside.” Kaiba murmured, and Atem realised there were loud noises coming from beyond the door. It sounded like a murder scene.

“He’s destroying my entire house because I won’t let him see you. I assumed you wouldn’t want him to see you like that.”

Atem hummed softly, “Thank-“

“Don’t. I didn’t do it for you.”

Atem nodded and sat quietly, listening to the anger from outside of the room.

He wished he were receiving it, rather than sitting here, bones breaking down under Kaiba’s fingers.

 

“What happened?” Atem asked, moving to raise a hand to his throat.

His wrist was caught by firm fingertips, nails digging into his skin through rubber.

“Don’t touch it. Nothing. Bakura was-“ a swallow, “Having fun. Playing with his food. And the fucking _Nightmare Boy_ came in and told him to stop.”

Atem looked at him, frowning, “Nightmare Boy?”

“Yes. That was him. God, he makes my fucking skin crawl.” Kaiba muttered, raising Atem’s thigh at the knee to wind bandage around it, his thumb and middle finger meeting around his narrow bones.

“Bakura practically pissed himself. Put you down, and then _he_ told me how to take care of your throat, and to get you out of there. You should count your fucking stars that he helped you.”

Atem sat up, his limbs all felt too loose, as though they might slip from their place and drop him, a marionette puppet without support.

Kaiba’s hand slammed him down by his chest.

His neck ached.

Atem yelped, screamed an obscenity at the blinding pain.

And Kaiba shattered.

He fell to fucking pieces and collapsed, every inch of him a shuddering, broken mess.

He looked the way Atem felt he must, in the bright lights of Kaiba’s room, begging for a fist against his skull.

Not empty, but fucking _void_.

There had never been something there to take away in the first place, born a half-creature.

“Go get Marik, don’t come back.” Atem said, setting his tone firm.

He didn’t want to see Kaiba like this, didn’t want Kaiba to resent him for seeing it.

He kept his eyes to himself, ignoring the shaking mess.

 

Kaiba nodded numbly, standing and leaving the room without a word, without any motive behind it.

A mindless shell, doing as he was told.

Atem closed his eyes and listened as the sounds above stopped, the world stilling around him.

Footsteps.

Running footsteps.

The door hit the wall hard, and Marik was by his side.

They looked at one another.

They were silent for a long moment.

The house was silent.

“Tell your boyfriend thank you.”

Marik threw himself on top of Atem, his legs landing messily around him, somehow managing to smash into every aching part of him.

Atem half-screamed, panted, and wrapped his arms tightly around Marik, pulling the boy’s head into his chest.

Marik hugged him tightly, and Atem’s body screamed, and Atem ignored it.

Marik never touched _anybody_.

Atem cherished him, held him so close he felt like he might pull him inside of his chest.

He wasn’t sure he could love anything, but if he did, he loved this boy.

“Ryou said that he was going to kill you.” The voice was muffled into his collarbone. His voice was bitter.

Atem felt sick at the disappointment that settled over him.

“He was?”

Marik looked up at him, drawing in a breath, “He said that he’d never seen a person who looked like death was the only thing they wanted in the entire world.” Atem froze, “He said it would have been like a gift. He chose to help instead, for my sake.”

Atem looked at him silently.

“Ryou knew shit about me before I even told him. He put things I wanted to say into words when I was still punching holes in walls over it. It drives me fucking crazy, but he’s _always right._ ” Marik said, his words rushed and messy.

He paused for a long second then, climbing off of Atem, standing beside the bed.

“When I found you in the bathroom- that wasn’t- You hadn’t been drugged, had you?” Atem stayed silent, looking into Marik’s eyes, wanting to feel the guilt for this, “You did it yourself. You tried to overdose.”

Atem said nothing. Marik had been the only one who knew, he had helped him. 

He hadn’t wanted help until Marik got there.

He could be dead by now, coming up on two years, if he hadn’t.

Wished he was, so he wasn’t having this conversation.

“Would you fucking say something?!” Marik reached out, his anger _never_ internal, and grabbed the shelving unit, smashing it to the floor.

Atem heard shattering.

Kaiba’s dragon was dead.

He watched Marik, who was not much more than a shaking ball of energy, violent and vicious. He had internalised all of his emotions as a coping mechanism for so long that now there was no restraint in anything he felt.

His right hand flew up to grip his left upper arm, sharp nails drew blood in his own skin.

Marik screamed through his teeth.

“Yes! Fuck, Marik! Stop!” he forced himself up, swinging his feet onto the ground.

Ignoring the pain. The pain was nothing. Marik was _hurting_ because of him.

He toppled forward and grabbed Marik’s wrist, tried to wrench it out of his arm.

It didn’t work, he was so fucking weak.

 

Marik just stared at him through bloodshot eyes, he was shaking, he was tall – but oh, fuck, he was just a fucking kid.

A kid who had been dragged through hell all of his life.

A kid who had finally been given a chance to _feel_ things, and so he _used it._

Let his anger lash out at everything, let his fear guide him. 

Marik lived off his instincts and it made him a valuable member of their cohort, even if it scared the hell out of Atem.

Atem wrapped his arms tightly around the boy and squeezed.

He felt his legs drop out, he was so weak, Marik’s arm caught him easily.

“I’m sorry for hurting you.” Atem managed, his vision blinking slightly in his pain.

Marik said nothing for a moment. His body shook in Atem’s arms.

“Have you done that again?”

Atem frowned, “Tried to off myself?” he laughed softly, “Nah. Gave up on that fantasy. Besides, I gotta babysit your ass all the time, I cant die.”

He wished he could. Thought about it every day.

Marik hit him.

A sharp slap to his arm.

“Okay, bad joke. But no. I haven’t. And I won’t.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I wouldn’t either.” Atem agreed, “But it’s true.” ~~He guessed.~~

Marik helped him back to the bed in silence.

Atem showed him his wounds. Explained as best he could what had happened.

He made jokes, Marik pretended to laugh and smile.

He was hurting everybody.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....oops.
> 
> for reference sake, 'Wisix' is essentially an Ancient Egyptian insult similar to calling somebody filth.


	8. Christ, You're Such A Sadness.

“Yuge? Pal?”

Yugi heard Jounouchi’s voice from the other end of the phone, broken and cracked, some kind of space behind it as though he weren’t quite connected to his body.

As if he were distant, but still there.

He froze to the spot, clutching the pear he had just picked up too tightly in his hand, fingers bruising the soft flesh.

“Jou- what’s wrong? What’s happened?” he wedged the phone between his ear and shoulder, dug through his pocket for his keys.

“Help me.”

He had heard this iteration of Jou’s voice exactly four times.

The first two had ended in tears, the third in screams, the forth in silence.

Blood each time.

The call disconnected.

Yugi swore and ditched the cart of groceries he had been dragging, he tossed the abused pear into the cart and ran out the doors, he sprinted as fast as possible to his beat-up car and threw himself into the driver’s seat, jamming the key into the ignition.

He arrived home without remembering the drive, his heart pounding in his ears, his mind racing.

He fumbled with the door – _they needed this fucking lock fixed_ – and screamed in frustration as it finally clicked open, he threw it open, ignoring the resulting smack as the handle slammed against the inside wall with viscosity.

He let himself into Jou’s room and stood silently in the entryway, panting slightly.  
The room was empty, cold.

His bed was made, curtains drawn, too neat. Too perfect. Neglected.

Yugi desperately tried to recall if he had heard any sign of life over the past few days – so caught up in his own angst over Atem that he hadn’t bothered to check in with his friend.

He hadn’t seen him since the fight before the night at the bar.

_Fuck._

The room felt like a funeral home.

Yugi stood frozen, let his numb fingers fumble with his phone, pulling up Mai’s number.

 

He almost hit call, when he heard a low moan from the other side of the wall.

_His room._

Yugi rushed into his own room, the yellow lights were switched on, his friend sitting against the wall by his bedside table, against the closed door to his wardrobe – needles by his thighs, Yugi couldn’t count them, could only see that some were empty.

He looked at the shelf where the box had been.

_Stupid, he was so fucking stupid._

The heroin he’d been wasting his money on had been hastily tossed into an old shoebox that sat on a shelf Yugi had to stand on his toes to reach.

_But Jounouchi was tall enough._

Yugi didn’t have time to beat himself up, he dropped to his knees over Jounouchi and grabbed his face, making him look at him.

His eyes were faded, blurred.

He smiled blearily at him.

“You came, buddy.” He murmured, sounding so fucking grateful.

Yugi swallowed, “How much did you take?” he asked, holding his face with one hand, he could feel the tears on his own cheeks as he pressed the phone against his face, an ambulance on the line already.

Yugi’s hand shook so hard it rattled Jou’s skull in his palm.

Jounouchi wasn’t some beautiful broken boy, he was a _miserable_ man.

Too skinny, bones in all the wrong places, scabs and cuts and blood littered over his arms, sallow cheeks and eyes, hair that was blonde and thick now thin, falling out, and a dirty brown.

Jou closed his eyes and Yugi swore, letting go and standing, he spoke in short sentences, not hearing the person on the other end.

“I need- an ambulance. My name is Yugi, my friend Jounouchi has overdosed on heroin. I don’t know how much- but a lot. He takes it regularly.” He quickly spat out the address, speaking over the calm-voiced attendant – _why were they so fucking calm_ – “he just closed his eyes- I don’t know how long ago he took it, but less than two hours. He’s 21- no, he won’t refuse care- tell me what I should do- “

Jounouchi’s lips were blue, his fingertips blue.

Yugi grabbed iced fingers and pulled a boney hand to himself, pressing two fingers against his wrist, closing his eyes and trying to feel the pulse.

It beat away passionately beneath the surface – distant but still there.

He relayed this to the attendant.

He barely heard the response, the calm tone making his heart slow, the entire world stilling around him, he dropped Jounouchi’s hand and hung up the call.

He stood and moved to his bed, sitting on the edge and training his eyes on the melted pile of bones that he had let his friend become – the already dead corpse that he had baited.

He looked down at the phone after counting three tiny breaths from Jounouchi.

He opened the thread of unacknowledged messages between him and Atem.

He didn’t have time to be mad about it right now – he pressed his finger to the call button and stared at the phone as it rang, the sound of the ringer distant, but still there.

 

The phone shook with his hand as it rung.

It seemed to ring forever.

When Yugi thought it was going to hit voicemail, he saw the words change, numbers appearing, counting upward.

He raised the phone to his ear slowly.

“-and I would have thought you’d get the message that you don’t have some magical ass that makes me want to talk to you every fucking second. I have shit to do, you entitled piece of- “

“Katsuya overdosed. Tell me what to do.” Yugi said shortly, cutting him off, he felt so numb, so out of his own body.

He looked down at his other hand that was digging into the flesh around his knee, felt like he was in a shooter game, the wonky first person perspective, a narrowed vision, only aware of what was directly in front of him.

“Oh _fuck,_ Yugi.” Atem’s voice lost the tease behind it, Yugi vaguely registered the hint of concern, “Is he dead yet?”

Yugi inhaled sharply, “He’s not going to fucking die. He can’t.”

“Yeah- Sure- Uh, fuck, sure Yugi. He won’t die. Do you want me to come help?”

“Yes. But tell me what to do while you come here. I live near the docks we meet at, so just fucking start coming already.”

Atem was quiet for a second, Yugi could hear the tap of his skin against the phone screen, a quiet gasp and grunt, along with the quiet squeak of a bedframe.

“I can’t hear you for a minute, Yugi, I have to use the phone to get a car. But- fuck, okay. If he’s conscious, you need to try to keep him that way, and make sure he can’t swallow his tongue or some stupid shit- you know that basic CPR crap, right? Just do that. If he stops breathing, mouth-to-mouth, if his heart stops, chest compressions. You need to be checking them both. Don’t hit him or pour water on him or any of that shit though, you’ll send him into shock.”

Yugi moved back towards Jounouchi and tried to feel for his pulse again.

Atem’s voice returned properly, “Okay, car will be here in a second. How is he doing?”

“I don’t know if he’s conscious.” Yugi murmured, holding the phone with his shoulder, snapping his fingers in front of Jou’s glazed eyes.

“Pinch his ear.”

“ _What?”_

“Just fucking do it.”

Yugi brought his nails together through the cartilage of Jounouchi’s ear, and his body jolted slightly under him, a soft groan and an attempt at words.

“I heard that. That means he is conscious. That’s good. Okay. Just keep watching his breathing and check his pulse every few seconds. How much did he take?”

Yugi glanced down, “I can see four empties. But it could be more.”

“Fucking- okay. Did you call an ambulance?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Okay. Now- can you fucking breathe like a human?”

Yugi paused, “Excuse me?”  
“You’re panting like a dog, you need to get your _shit_ together, dude, this is _not_ about you.” Atem’s tone was still kind but his voice was sharp, “Suck it up and calm down. Breathe steady and try to stop panicking. Text me the address and keep an eye on him, I’ll be there soon.” He hung up.

Yugi stared at the phone.

It felt so close to his face, zoomed in by his blurry eyes.

He dropped it and looked at the eyelids, blue and purple like bruises, of his best friend’s corpse, the tiniest of movement beneath them, distant, but still there.

 

***

 

Atem dragged his aching body out of one of Kaiba’s fleet of vintage sports cars outside of Yugi’s apartment building.

He ignored the burning in every joint, the screaming from his body to drop and let himself sleep, and walked toward the open door of unit 6.

He heard the sirens of the ambulance approaching as he walked inside, “Yugi?” he called, heading toward the room at the end of the hall, light spilling from it dramatically.

Atem popped his collar as he entered the room, the bandage around his throat itching.

He looked at the sight in the room.

Yugi was crouched on the floor, squatting on his friend’s lap, hands holding his face, his entire body still, while Katsuya looked halfway dead already.

Atem glanced at the drugs littered behind him, frowning slightly at the abundant stockpile he saw there.

He walked closer, “Yugi, get up.” He dropped a hand onto the other man’s shoulder.

Yugi looked up at him sharply, his own hand reaching up and clasping Atem’s to his own.

He raised himself from his squat slowly, his legs shaking as he did.

Atem looked at him, a man who had fucked him into oblivion just three days earlier, before Bandit Kings and damaged friendships, before an intimate brush with death that had left him aching for more.

A man with hair too much like his, and an attitude too reversed, too rehearsed to be real, a man who took drugs but also whatever he wanted from Atem, a man who had _beaten_ Atem at his own game and then shot up in his bedsheets.

Atem hated him with every piece of his soul, and so, he closed his eyes and pulled his body against his own, let one hand cup the back of his head and rested the other on his lower back.

Yugi’s head rested on his shoulder, and he was small, but not broken.

He was soft and needy but not crying, not afraid.

“Hell of a way to get me to talk to you.” Atem murmured into his hair after pressing a kiss into it.

Yugi’s shoulders shook once with a quiet, breathy laugh.

“I guess you really do not like one-night stands, hey?”

“mm,” Yugi murmured, his voice obscured by the fabric of Atem’s coat, his temples pressing into the bandages at his throat. Atem could feel the scrape against his breath from the pressure, and loved it.

He almost wanted Yugi to choke him again.

 

Atem held him quietly, made tiny jokes and insulted him as the paramedics entered, carefully lifting Katsuya onto a stretcher, beginning care immediately.

Atem held Yugi together and held him out of the way, before asking if he wanted to ride in the ambulance or follow in Atem’s car.

“Car.” Yugi replied softly, raising his head to meet his eyes, “I can’t be that close to him.”

Atem nodded, and walked with him to the waiting car, his knees already dreading the crouch to get low enough.

They climbed in together and Atem watched Yugi settle himself in, pulling a seatbelt around himself, before looking at Atem expectantly.

Atem thought about his bruised collarbones, the deep cut in his throat, the damage around his hip bones and the stab wound on his thigh, imagined the pressure of the belt against them all.

He smiled softly at Yugi as he pulled it around himself, a quiet sound like a moan slipping from his mouth as the wound on his thigh screamed in protest.

He thought about Kaiba.

“Your friend will be okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ......oops.


	9. Assume The Roles We Could Never Be

Atem plopped the small plastic bag into Yugi’s lap before he dropped his tired bones into the chair by his side.

He drew his uninjured leg to his chest, resting his chin on it and looking at the man beside him.

Yugi narrowed his eyes are him,  “ I told you I wasn’t hungry.”

Atem looked at him, “Junkie, shut up and eat. Worrying about him won’t make him live if he took too much.”

Yugi’s eyes went from surprised, to spiteful, to blank in the space of a second, he set his jaw and dug through the bag, withdrawing a small bag of mixed nuts.

“Thank you.” He said quietly.

Atem nodded, curling his fingers around his own foot, watching him too fixedly.

 

Yugi was different, the flames that always seemed to be circling around were so distant it was as though they had never touched the boy.

His eyes exposed his uncertainty, his posture slack, slumped small in the chair as though trying to inhabit as minimal space in this world as he physically could.

This wasn’t the man he’d sold drugs to and wanted to taunt, nor the drunken boy who had ridden him until they were both sweaty and breathless in his moonlit bedroom.

This Yugi was somebody entirely different.

Atem still liked him.

He thought maybe he liked him best like this, splayed open, so honest.

He licked his dry lips and watched Yugi dig through the nuts for the ones he wanted, focused as though finding the single pistachio in the packet would make everything that was going wrong in the world around him rectify itself.

Atem didn’t know what this feeling was, had long accepted he wasn’t particularly capable of loving anybody with any semblance of romance behind it, knew that wanting to fuck Yugi had less to do with an actual raw attraction to him and more to do with how apparent it had been that it was what Yugi had wanted.

And yet, the boy somehow managed to clear Atem’s head. Watching Yugi amused him, the loose curl of his blonde bangs made Atem want to twist it around his fingers.

He didn’t know what it was he was feeling, he only knew he didn’t want it to go away yet.

 

“Mr Mutou?”

Atem turned his eyes toward the doctor standing above them, a woman with brown hair that hung just past her shoulders, taller than him but not by much, her green eyes kind.

She looked like the kind of woman who would cry over her patient’s deaths, who would personally work to ensure you knew your relatives were well cared for.

Yugi murmured something in response, nodding.

“Does Jounouchi have a relative we can contact?”

Yugi shook his head, “His little sister can’t know about this, and his parents are both dead.”

Atem saw the tiniest of walls in Yugi’s eyes and wished he knew why.

“We live together, I’ve known him my entire life, and I brought him here last time. I’m the only one.”

The doctor sighed and nodded, “Okay, well you must already be aware that we cannot let you make any decisions or be privy to any specific knowledge without his consent. He is still currently unconscious, so you can’t see him, however he is stable for the moment, and we’re doing everything we can to help him pull through.”

Yugi nodded respectfully, “Okay. Thank you.” He dropped his eyes to the bag on the floor as the nurse murmured something supportive before moving away, her shoulders drawn tight with tension and concern.

 

Atem watched Yugi palm through the contents of the bag aimlessly, as though he was looking for something he already knew wasn’t there.

He sighed, and grabbed Yugi’s arm, standing quickly and pulling him to his feet.

“Come with me.”

Yugi planted his feet, rising to his full height but not moving with him.

“You should go.” He said firmly, his eyes sharp.

Atem looked at him, frowning at the snappy tone, “What’s up your ass?”

Yugi didn’t meet his eyes, “Well, you were, and then you just ignored me.”

Atem stared at him.

Yugi’s cheeks flushed.

“Did you just- wow. Okay. Um, my sincerest apologies, Junkie, but I do actually have a job and shit to do other than sit around replying to your clingy messages. I don’t know why you would assume it would be anything other than a quick fuck.”

Yugi’s eyes settled. With his chin lifting, he looked more like the man he had been selling drugs to.

“Where are we going?”

Atem stepped toward him, “I’m going to make it up to you.” He grinned, lacing one hand through Yugi’s hair and pressing a kiss onto his mouth, “You can take me on a date.”

 

***

 

Atem let Yugi twist their fingers together, crushing his own boney digits. They walked together down the street, the bounce of every step sending sparks of pain through his leg and neck.

He bit at the inside of his cheek and ignored it, thinking about Yugi.

The boy beside him was filled with some kind of manic energy. He was gloomy and dark, and yet seemed to buzz with movement, his eyes flicking around.

“The planetarium,” he said, his voice filled with satisfaction.

Atem raised an eyebrow, “Come again?”

“That's where we’re going.”

Atem smiled faintly, “Sounds like fun. Space is cool.” He squeezed Yugi’s hand in his.

Atem wasn't sure why he felt so warm inside, or why the smile in Yugi’s voice made his chest pound.

He just knew he didn't want to let go of his hand.

 

They walked the last block together, Atem playing over their interactions in his mind while Yugi chatted rather incessantly about nothing in particular.

Yugi was a drug addict, and yet, he couldn't help this.

He enjoyed his company so much and he thought about kissing him a lot.

The last person who tried to kiss him had left the room with a broken jaw.

Atem didn't know what it was about this boy that broke through his walls, but he thought he wouldn't mind if Yugi wanted to put up a fresh coat of paint.

It terrified him to the point of wishing he could run away.

 

Atem watched Yugi approach the counter inside the building, pulling out his wallet and speaking quietly with the elderly woman behind the desk.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he squeezed Yugi’s hand in apology and released him, stepping back onto the street before answering.

It was Kaiba.

“I'm going to put everything you own into an incinerator.”

Atem frowned. “What the fuck?”

“Where the hell are you, Atem? You're injured. Badly. You're meant to be in bed for two weeks,  _ minimum _ . If you don't get back here within twenty minutes, you'll be homeless.”

“If I was homeless again, you realise it'd be harder for me to heal?”

Kaiba’s voice was strained, Atem heard the slight whistle of his breath, the scratch of a pen on paper, “Your thigh wound was reopened, and it had  _ barely _ healed, Atem. I know you weren't cleaning it properly, do I have to remind you that your fucking femoral artery was almost completely severed? You could have bled out in ten minutes. And your throat- fucking Christ, I know you like to flirt around with death and think you're edgy, but you need to fucking knock it off.”

Atem tried to interrupt, and Kaiba sharply cut him off, his voice was so full of anxiety that it actually intimidated him.

“Fuck you. Get your fucking ass back here. You might not give a shit about your own health and safety, but I know you care about Marik. Do you want him to pay for your fuck up? Because you know he’ll take your job any day of the week.”

Atem groaned.

Kaiba had finished his rant, and now the crushing silence stretched across the line endlessly, squeezing his heart with cold air.

“Can you send a car? I'm at the planetarium in town.”

He heard his friend click his tongue. “You fucking astound me.”

The call dropped.

 

Atem stared at the sign for the cafe across the street, still holding the phone to his ear.

“Fuck you too buddy.” He muttered, and put the phone into his back pocket, heading inside.

Yugi had one hand on the door, obviously about to come outside to check on him.

“Hey- uh, listen, I have to go.” The crushing pain that fell directly onto Yugi’s face felt like bricks raining down on his shoulders. “It's a work thing. I have to deal with it. We’ll take a rain check. I hope Katsuya will be okay.”

Yugi was just staring at him, a kind of miserable acceptance clear in his eyes, his mouth turned downward in a painful pout.

Atem hated it. Hated this moment, hated Kaiba, hated himself.

He needed to rectify it, had to resolve it, had to fix him.

Yugi’s lips parted, and Atem realised he was breathing heavily, panicking.

He launched himself face-first at the other man, both hands coming to grab at his back, their lips crushing together, moving together, shaking.

Atem kissed him for a long minute, Yugi’s back pressing to the glass doors, a shaky breath from his nose before they separated.

 

“I'm sorry- I really have to-”

“Is there a car coming? Can we sit and talk?”

Atem looked at him. “Okay,” he said quietly, and turned his back to the wall, sliding down it slowly and raising his uninjured leg.

Yugi plopped down ungracefully beside him, barely hesitating before asking, “what happened to your neck?”

Atem looked at him sharply, pulling his coat up in an attempt to cover the bandages again. “Nothing. None of your business.”

Yugi shrugged. “Just asking.”

Atem scowled, “Well, it’s none of your business.”

“Drug dealer drama?” Yugi suggested, and Atem nodded.

He let one hand drop down to graze along the other boy’s thigh, fingers dragging patterns across the exposed skin surrounded by torn denim.

 

“My job isn’t exactly safe. Good thing not many people are around to get hurt if I die.” Atem murmured.

Yugi made a noise like he was listening, thinking, his hair in his eyes. He needed a fucking haircut.

“I mean, I got fucking stabbed in the thigh three months ago. I didn’t even  _ do _ anything! I was on a collection, I visit this guy every goddamned week, and he just pulls a knife on me, shoves it into my leg before I can say two words.” Atem continued, “And then of course, he had backup. This ugly guy with long white hair and one eye grabs me by the throat, hits on me, then just  _ actually _ hits me. Knocked me out.

“ _ My _ backup came in after about ten minutes - she’s a fucking bitch, she was on a phone call - and called the boss, got me to a hospital. I nearly bled out. Honestly, I wish the bitch had fucking left me there, Kaiba yelled at me for twenty minutes and Mana follows me around like a puppy now. I don’t need a babysitter, and you’ve seen her, she’s fucking tiny.”

Yugi was smirking, his dreary purple eyes lit up a little as he listened to him.

“She thinks you’re hot, by the way.”

Yugi’s thigh started to move under his fingers, shaking slightly, he looked up, his shoulders were shaking as he laughed, an easy giggle.

“Holy shit, Atem. You’re a depressing little fuck, aren’t you?”

Atem stared at him, “Feel free to fucking walk away whenever you want.”

“I’m good here. I mean, hey, I get it, you have this whole ‘i'm so dark, I think about death and I probably never eat so that all my bones stick out’ thing going on, but fuck, do you even  _ want _ to be happy?” Yugi’s eyes were bright, his eyebrows raised.

Atem hated the smug look on his face, as though he had figured him out perfectly.

Atem could feel his own rage pouring through his veins .

He wanted to grab Yugi by the throat again.

 

He hated him so much, but at the same time he wished Yugi would keep going, tell him how pathetic and worthless he was, spit in his face and then fuck him through a wall.

He shook his head, looking at his own hands for a moment before grinning at Yugi.

“Like you can fucking talk. You look like shit, and quite frankly, you’re kind of gross. When was the last time you washed your hair? Your apartment was fucking disgraceful and just being around you makes me feel like I need to shower. You aren’t exactly a ball of sunshine yourself, you’re a melancholy jerk who thinks the world is shitting specifically on him, like you’re so fucking special. Get your own shit together before you take out your own problems on me. I’m not your goddamn mirror, kid.”

Yugi was silent for a long moment, his elbows resting on his knees, feet together, staring straight ahead.

His eyes were focused, eyebrows drawn.

“I’m older than you.” he murmured in a muted tone, before setting his jaw and clenching it. Atem saw the muscle there working as he ground his teeth.

The weighted pressure of the truth hung over them both as though gravity had been turned up, forcing their shoulders down, heads into slumps left by shitty posture.

 

They sat together in silence, Atem’s easy bearing giving him the advantage of seeming as though he had his shit together.

He dug holes in his palms with his fingernails, tugged the bandages away from his throat and scratched at the stitches there until his nails were stained with his own blood. He wished the car would arrive and take him anywhere, away from this place. Maybe Kaiba hadn’t given the driver orders not to listen to him and he could talk him into stopping at a liquor store.

Wheels splashed water over the gutter as the steel grey car pulled up sharply beside them.

Atem wondered how much time had passed, felt like he had skipped minutes of his own life, staring ahead but seeing nothing.

~~ Are you dissociating again? Atem, you know that's bad. ~~

Atem shook Mana’s voice from his head as he stood, tired legs not bothering to complain with pain receptors, favouring to strike his brain with a high-pitched whine, a warning not to push for anything more from them.

He ignored it, as usual. The sound was like the voice of an old friend at this point.

He turned to Yugi, offered him a hand to pull him to his feet.

“If I text you, are you going to answer?”

Atem shrugged easily, “Worth a shot, buddy.”

 

He swung one hand, forming an easy fist, and connected it gently with Yugi’s shoulder.

Yugi’s eyes widened, they seemed to take up his entire face.

“You-”

“Shut up!” Atem grabbed the car door and threw himself into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut.

His face was hot with embarrassment.

“What the fuck is wrong with me.”

The driver glanced at him, “To the liquor store, sir?”

Atem leant back into the seat, looking at the smooth roof, “ _ Please, Isono. _ ”

“Very well.”

Atem eyed Yugi through the heavily tinted window as they pulled away, watching until he was too small to distinguish from the side of the building, the muted greys of his outfit blending into the moody neutrality of the overcast day.


	10. It's Just The Way We Collide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains some descriptions of violence and trauma.   
> Good luck.

Atem rested his chin in his palm, fingers curled up over his own lips. 

He gazed at Kaiba skeptically as he paced before him, anger boiling out of him as he spewed a lecture at him. 

“Are you almost finished?” he cut into the sentence, smiling at his friend. 

Kaiba froze, turning upon him with a fury. 

Atem smiled wider, closing his eyes and baring his teeth with the effort. 

He felt air brush past his head as Kaiba’s hand swept behind his head, fingers twisting through his hair violently and yanking it forward, his thin body forced across the table.

He grunted and forced his own chin upward so that he could look at Kaiba, pushing a soft groan through his own lips, looking at him through hazy eyes as the pain tried to draw tears from his ducts.

His neck forced back onto his shoulders, head twisted upwards, waist jarred on the edge of the table, every part of his body ached. 

Seeds of bruises sewn upon bruises.

Atem was pleased Kaiba knew what he needed, panted softly, maintaining the connection between blue eyes and red. 

He trusted his voice to speak calmly, but he knew Kaiba could see the look in his eyes.

“Your move, Dragon Fucker.” 

 

His hair was drawn tighter, Kaiba’s wrist twisting to find a better grip, before his head was smashed down into the table. 

Atem felt the familiar hollow feeling fill the bones of his skull as the pain shot around the inside of the cartilage of his face. 

Kaiba had twisted his head so that his nose wouldn’t be broken, instead his cheekbone and brow received the grunt of the impact. 

He could feel the blood rising to the surface in his face, licked his lips, tongue grazing the cold table as he did. 

“Bedroom.” he heard Kaiba speak from above him, behind him, his hand had left Atem’s hair. 

He raised his head, looking over his shoulder at Kaiba. 

The air between them sparked, Atem’s skin itched like it wanted to be unzipped and abandon him where he was. 

“Can’t be bothered.” he said noncommittally, and grinned when he felt too-soft hands wrap around his ribs, sweeping him into strong arms, Kaiba begun to carry him towards the stairs. 

Atem grinned up at him, manicured nails digging into his thigh where he gripped him, the arm beneath his back firmer, supportive and reliable. 

Atem appreciated the safety of it; slid one arm to curl around Kaiba’s neck. 

He craned his body forward slightly, pressed his tongue into the shadow of Kaiba’s collarbone, tracing it along the bone and up his throat, tasting the salty skin and stress that rested there. 

A tendon beneath his tongue drew taunt, Atem heard him swallow, and let himself fall back into waiting arms. 

The dull ache still lingered around his right eye socket, so he closed his eyes. 

The rhythmic, heavy thud of Kaiba’s feet lulling him, Atem let his thoughts drift, his mind empty.

 

\----

 

Kaiba looked down at the frail body in his arms, eyes closed patiently, as though he was awaiting some fate he wasn’t afraid wouldn’t come, one half of his face shiny and red from his earlier assault. 

He could feel the bones of Atem’s thigh without even the slightest of pressure, they pressed against Kaiba’s fingertips as if desperate to abandon ship. 

Every time he touched Atem, he was reminded of how fragile he was, like glass.

How despite being cocky, confident, and an extremely high-ranking member of a feared organisation, he could fall to pieces so easily.    
Kaiba had seen Atem break the necks of men twice his size with barely a pause in conversation, had watched him plant a bullet in the skull of a traitor to their group who he had once considered friend, hell, he’d seen Atem kill more people than almost his step-father, and he had never once seen it impact him, or hinder him for even a moment. 

It was as though Atem didn’t view death, even when directly faced with it, as something to fear  _ or _ glorify, simply an inevitable ending that didn’t require any secondary thought. 

Kaiba thought of asking him when he first saw death, on an almost daily basis, but he knew he would never get a straight answer, knew that Atem would never honestly divulge such information unless he demanded it of him, abused his own power to force it from him. 

He watched Atem use his free hand to open the door, continuing into the room and towards the bed as Atem begun to remove his own clothing, first his coat and then unbuttoning his shirt, he placed one hand over Atem’s, their hands flat to his breast bone, a heavily thumping heartbeat resonating against their skin. 

“Leave it on.” he said firmly, adopting the persona he knew Atem needed from him, an authority, a voice to be punished for disobeying. 

Atem called the shots, but he needed Kaiba to remind him that actions had consequences, needed something to hold onto, something to belong to. 

And he did, Atem belonged to his bruised skin and cascading precipice of exposed bone just as Kaiba belonged to his expansive wealth and the name of a family that wasn’t his, but had been stamped into his being like the impacted skin around his throat. 

The scarring was so faint that it had taken Atem, a man with one hell of an eye for scars, almost two full years to notice, and with no other way to describe the noose he would carry with him into his own unmarked grave, he told him it was the burden of being a Kaiba. 

He knew, however, that Mokuba would never carry this weight with him, and Seto was grateful for it. 

He hated him for it though, sometimes.  Wished that Mokuba had gotten it half as bad as him so that they had something to build a bridge over the deep chasm that stretched between them, each aware of the other’s pain, but unaware of a way to connect through it to find some tranquility. 

Mokuba was lonely, and he had always been lonely. Seto knew. Seto had seen it since before their parents had died, before the orphanage. Mokuba was a lonely child, left to himself even as a toddler, and Seto had read to him. He was lonely by choice, until his younger brother with too much hair for an infant was born. In some other world, they might have grown up as close as could be, the best of friends and family, but in this one, in this reality,  _ their _ reality, Seto covered his eyes and his nose was tickled by a wild head of dark hair while he watched his father fall to the floor, his body landing against the bleeding remains of their mother, all sound torn from his ears. 

And Mokuba knew what price Seto paid for their new home, knew how much his body ached with the physical and psychological burdens, knew that he was being weighed down by the collar he bore so firmly that he tore pits in their new floors that nobody but himself could lift him from. He was sure Mokuba knew that he had forced his shoulders to bear his weight, to learn to hoist himself out of the holes he fell into, until he encountered another, knew that Mokuba felt safe with those abilities, but that it would always keep him an arm's distance away. 

They loved one another, and yet they could only show it in the most civilized of ways. The weekly dinners, the occasional homework help - that Mokuba didn’t need, he was every bit the prodigy Seto had been, but he had learnt through observation to keep his own gift silent - the birthdays they celebrated and pretended as though they didn’t spend so much time apart that every time they saw one another they could notice differences.

Two humans lived in the mansion that could house twenty, and the space between their bedrooms was empty and cold, no shared area, the rooms rarely heard voices, rarely saw human connection. Seto was at peace with the distance, because the stillness in the air when they were together made his skin itch, made him consider that Atem’s precisely placed scars might just be reasonable, felt so uncomfortable with living in those moments that he considered that it might be nice not to. 

Occupying the same space as Mokuba was one of the most difficult things for him these days, every second of lengthy silence, his mind ticked through things to say, things to ask, but his mouth refused to form them. It was as if every motor in his brain lost power all at once, the few communication skills he had developed forgotten memories. He wanted to speak to his brother, but he couldn’t. There was too much space between them, too much known by them both but never shared, to forge any kind of link together. 

If Atem wasn’t in his house so often, Kaiba was sure his wing of the mansion would never hear a voice but his own on brief business calls. He lifted the short glass of spirits from the small table in his bedroom, swirling the liquid in the glass. Atem was sitting on the bed, watching him anxiously, he could feel him tracking his every movement, every tense and release of his muscles. 

Kaiba drank from the glass before setting it down, and sighing softly. “You want a drink?” he offered, hearing the stiffness in his own tone as he wrapped his hand around the neck of the bottle. 

Atem didn’t respond, Kaiba turned to study him, bottle in hand. 

Atem was sitting in the corner of the bed that Kaiba slept in, his feet touching, knees raised slightly, his chest propped up by his arms, planted behind him, his shoulder bones popped forward stiffly. 

He was shaking slightly, his knees quivering, the rise and fall of his chest heavy. 

Kaiba pretended not to notice, like he always did. 

But there was something different today.

Atem seemed more vulnerable than ever, the excitement for their activities that usually caused this reaction replaced by more of a desperation, a different kind of need. 

His swollen cheek gleamed at Kaiba and it made him feel physically nauseous. 

 

“Probably for the best. You can’t handle your liquor.” Kaiba supplied to the heavy silence that hung in the air, replacing the bottle on the drinks table. 

He craned his chin to the ceiling, stared into the light there until his eyes were burned through, heard the quiet pop of his joints.

Atem was still silent, it made him uneasy. 

Kaiba moved towards the bed, climbing onto it on his knees, he looked at Atem, who leant forward, shadows lurching down his chest. 

“Tell me what you want.” 

Kaiba knew Atem wanted his voice to be calm, knew this was some vague attempt at recreating something from his past, retraumatizing himself. 

Using sex for self harm was Atem’s way of coping, and giving him control of the situation, while allowing him to immerse himself in the feeling of losing it, was the only way Kaiba could help him.

His clumsy words, his hesitant half-touches would do nothing to soothe the thing inside of Atem that was howling and tearing his insides apart, and even if Kaiba were capable, loving Atem back into one piece would never be possible. 

There was a lonely hole inside of this boy that would never be filled, no matter how content he may be with his life, he would always be right by the edge of that void, no matter how many whispered or screamed words of inspiration or determination, even when they came from Atem himself, he would never be whole.

Kaiba gave Atem what he could, and left him when that was what Atem wanted from him. 

“I want you to kill me.” 

Kaiba had never heard more honest words leave his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title for this chapter comes from a song that I feel accurately describes Kaiba and Atem's relationship. If you wanted to check it out, it's Here.


	11. No Song To Sing Us Off The Edge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [As a birthday gift, an incredible artist on tumblr drew a scene from earlier in this fic. I wanted to share it.](http://jujuoh.tumblr.com/post/159027152057/birthday-present-for-manicpixiedreampharaoh-from)

First Person Shooter games had always made Kaiba feel dizzy, so he supposed it made sense that whenever his anxiety dug its claws into his sides, he felt forced into one. 

Off centre, his view too wide and too narrow all at once, too aware of the edges of his vision, too aware of the parts of himself he could see - his hands in front of him when he raised them.

He imagined this was how it felt to look through the scope of a rifle. 

Kaiba had spent his entire life being intentionally selfish for survival’s sake, and now he made this situation about himself without conscious thought. 

He could hear his own ragged breathing, could see the script for his voice lines that were prerecorded, peeking in from the edge of the scene. 

But he didn’t say them. He couldn’t say anything, if a word came out it would be wrong, or too much, or nonsense, or too correct.

He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t speak, he couldn’t speak. 

And he wouldn’t. 

Kaiba stayed quiet, squeezed his lips between harsh teeth, chewed the words into the flesh of his gums, raised his head and felt the entire room swing as the camera shifted too quickly.

He couldn’t move. He wouldn’t move. 

He dealt with the sick feeling in his stomach as he moved his head once more, to look at the boy in his sheets. 

Him, the bullshit reason for the dichotomy he was caught in, between not liking him but caring for him. 

The furious divide that tore him in two, the anger that welled in him every time he knew Atem was asking him to hurt him because he was too afraid to do it to himself, because he wanted permission to fucking feel pain as though he couldn’t grant it to himself. 

It made Kaiba so blindingly angry, as well as flooding him with a skin-chilling misery. 

Atem was like a fucking nuclear warhead, he could destroy himself and everything around him and  _ fuck _ , Kaiba couldn’t deny that part of him liked that potential, the concept of becoming a casualty to his disaster. 

 

He convinced himself he would hurt Atem because it would stop him from letting someone else do it, someone who might kill him (and Atem would let them) someone who might actually hurt him with malice (which Atem would probably prefer) or just  _ someone who wasn’t him. _

Atem leant over him now. Kaiba didn’t know when he had fallen back, his spine pressed against the bedpost. 

Atem was staring into his face too deeply, seeing through the carefully placed frosted glass that had cleared to no more than thin plastic, transparent windows directly into his mind. 

Atem looked… disgusted. Kaiba couldn’t blame him. 

His face hardened, eyes firm but void, blank. 

“You’re pathetic,  _ Seto. _ ”

The words came through water, distorted and misheard. 

Kaiba knew he should be annoyed at the disrespectful use of his name, and yet, he couldn’t drag himself from the depths he found himself lost in.

Atem stared at him, lips parted, eyes narrowed. He was waiting for something, expecting the response, the rage, expecting Kaiba to give him what he needed, like he always did.

_ He couldn’t, anymore. He couldn’t bring himself to. _

He recognised the second Atem realised it wouldn’t happen, that Kaiba wasn’t going to pull himself from this and fix it, hurt him to spare his own feelings. 

The disappointment stung, Kaiba felt it like his step-fathers hand.  

A huffed, cold laugh, “I thought you were better than this.” 

Kaiba watched him leave, watched him pull his shirt flat against his body as he stalked from the room, his gait disjointed with his limp.

Kaiba watched as the doors swung closed, he groped desperately, slid a finger between the jaws of the dragon head on the bed, pressed his finger into the sharp grooves of its teeth, and clung to the wood for life. 

He could feel his body heaving, felt his stomach flipping as his body tried to cope with how destroyed he felt. 

He felt like he could sob until vinegar poured from his eye sockets, choke up sand with every breath, like the thing inside Atem’s stomach had taken up residence in his own and was devouring its way through him from the inside. 

He’d murdered so much of himself here, in this bed, he realised, as he thought about Atem’s spine against the sheets, the mattress, the bedding he’d thrown away because it had too much of his blood spilt on it, spit and sweat and cum and tears and Atem’s pleading voice, and Atem’s crying sobs, and Atem’s fake, pretty smiles. Atem’s bruises were all sewn throughout this bed, carved into the wood, his teeth had dragged fault lines through the design, his bones dented the frame. He’d let the part of himself that didn’t want to perform violent acts, the hearty child that had once been him, die in his own chest as he tried desperately to accommodate Atem, in the hopes that it might keep him around, bargaining for him not to leave in the only way that worked, because  _ fuck _ , money would never enough to convince Atem to stay alive. 

 

He knew the need to keep Atem was a selfish one, but he  _ didn’t care _ . 

He briefly thought, as he had in past, of locking him away, somewhere he couldn’t hurt himself, couldn’t do anything but stay alive, but Kaiba knew he would find a way. 

Atem was going to leave him someday and it would be on his own terms.

And he had wanted it to be by Kaiba’s hand. 

Kaiba felt his vision shake violently and groaned, pressing his head against the rounded top of the dragon's head, biting deeper into his upper lip as he tried to fight for consciousness. 

 

\-----

 

Atem wiped the blood on his knuckles off onto a white towel, hissing slightly at the sting that followed. 

Punching his fists bloody on the wall had seemed like a good idea in theory. 

He ran them under cold water, biting his tongue firmly to fight the urge to express pain.

_ Fucking Seto _ .   
He felt so off centre, like he was rocking while the world was shaking, everything wrong and out of rhythm. 

When he sat, he felt like the ball of energy that had formed in his chest might grow even larger until it exploded, and when he moved, his body moved faster than his brain, so much spring in his step that it launched him forward. 

He clenched and unclenched his fists erratically, watching the sharp bones of his fingers move under his skin, still stinging. 

His phone buzzed from the charger on his bedside table, and he stepped out from the bathroom and retrieved it, raising his right foot onto the bed and leaning down onto it to read.

He had a text from Yugi. 

He stopped breathing, widened his eyes then narrowed them. 

Images stirred to mind of lazy evenings with Yugi, of them sharing meals, spending time together. 

He hated it, hated how much he wanted it. 

Hated Yugi for the concern in his text. 

Roughly, he unplugged the cord from the base of the phone, and tossed the phone at the opposite wall.

He watched it fall, bouncing twice, too close to him, before landing facedown.

He stared blankly at it for a long second.

“That was a dumb fucking thing to do.” he said aloud, to himself, crouching to pick it up. 

The screen was shattered, top to bottom. 

No pieces of glass had fallen from it, and the screen was still easily distinguishable, but it was unsightly. 

He sighed, unlocking it and replying to Yugi.

 

-I’m peachy, thanks. And I can’t bring you gear. I’ll send someone else with your usual order.- 

He turned his phone off and went to Marik’s bedroom, knocking with his fist and opening the door.

“Heard of waiting for an answer after you knock, asswipe?” 

Atem blinked at Marik.

The room was dark, lit only by the glow of his fishtank. 

Marik wasn’t alone, a slim other form resting upon his lap, white hair glowing with the UV lighting. 

The person who hovered over Marik turned to look at Atem, and their body was so slim and vulnerable, with skin so soft and white that it made Atem want to stare. 

Ryou was wearing pants, a heavy coat deposited beside the bed, leaving his torso bare. 

“Hello, Yami.” 

Atem breathed slowly, willing his body to relax as every muscle tensed. 

He had known that Marik’s boyfriend was Ryou, but had never met him, knew that he worked for the Bandit King, but hadn’t known he was the  _ fucking Nightmare Boy. _

There was something wrong with him, Atem knew. 

He wasn’t creepy in the slightest, wasn’t too calm in an intimidating fashion, he wasn’t bored and indifferent like Atem himself had been described, and he wasn’t malicious and vicious one second, and calm the next. 

He was just… there, all the time. His presence so…. Present, and yet somewhere else. 

It felt like he was omnipotent, like once he locked his gaze on you, he could peer at you through the walls for the rest of time.

Atem had heard stories about the Nightmare Boy, the soft creature with the pretty face and the kind eyes that never once changed. 

He had been half conscious when they had met eyes last, and now- it was an entirely different experience. 

It was as though somewhere, in the deep recesses of his mind where the tiny amount of remaining self-preservation instincts lived, something was screaming that this person was not safe to be near. 

Marik, the one person in the world Atem could find himself to care for, was between his thighs like he lived there, face casual but for the slight flush of blood in his cheeks that could be either anger or embarrassment. 

 

Atem cleared his throat, looked to Marik instead, “You- I need you to go on a deal. I can’t do it right now.”

Marik’s eyes rolled towards the creature in his lap, “Can I take your bike?” 

Atem made an affirming sound, “Yes. And you know that you can’t have  _ him _ here. If Kaiba finds out you’re fucking someone from Kul Elna-” 

Marik and Ryou both sat up, Marik passing him the fur coat - Atem could see the same blood stain from the other day - and pulling his heavy boots onto socked feet. 

“I’ll text you the address.” He told him, after relaying the amount and charge, he cast one last glance towards the boy who was thought to be a legend Bakura had made up in order to intimidate foes, the boy who had wanted to give Atem the death he craved. 

Their eyes met. 

Atem felt the silent conversation, the kind eyes never wavering, piercing through him, as his lips pursed. 

“Thanks, Marik.” he murmured, and left quickly, returning to his bedroom and climbing into the sheets there. 

He could still smell Yugi in them, tugged them up around his face and inhaled deeply, letting his eyes fade from focus as he stared at - but didn’t see - a blank spot on his wall.


	12. Happy Where The Vermin Play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got bored and updated twice in one weekend.   
> This fic is back with regular updates though, i'll be updating on a Saturday night (GMT+10) 
> 
> Title is from: Amy aka Spent Gladiator 1 - The Mountain Goats.

“Cut it out.” 

Marik grinned at his boyfriend, kicking down the stand on the bike and pulling his helmet off as Ryou climbed down from the back. 

Marik followed suit and clapped one hand around his waist, tugging him close and kissing him. 

Ryou smiled at him, green eyes glinting.

“You coming in with me?” Marik asked him, shaking his hair loose from the shape formed by the helmet as he retrieved the small box with the order from the bike’s storage. 

“I’ll wait here.” Ryou told him, pressing their lips together again before dropping to sit cross legged beside the bike, white hair falling into his eyes as he hunched out. 

Marik reached down and messed with his hair a little, loved to play with it, “Aight dude,” he murmured, heading toward the building. 

He kicked at the door Atem had texted him, smirking a little as the frame rattled. 

He heard voices inside, didn’t care, dug the nail of his thumb between his teeth as the door opened.

 

He frowned at the man inside, brows knitting together, he dropped his hand back to tuck into his pocket and smirked. 

“Oi! It’s you.”

The man- Marik couldn’t remember if Atem had told him his name, didn’t really care, he just felt a grin spread across his face and stepped closer.

“Oh- Ah- Malik, right?”

“Close.” He said, raising one arm up the doorframe, he had a lot of height on this guy, “Marik, but that’s fine. You’re the one Atem was making out with.” 

He looked unsure of what to do, like he was forcing a bored expression. 

“I have your gear.” Marik said, handing it off to him and pocketing the money the man had slipped him. 

“Thank you. Tell Atem to bring it himself next time.”

Marik laughed wolfishly, “Are you and Atem gonna date? He’s my buddy, i’m just curious. You can tell me.”   
The other man looked uncomfortable, frowning at him, “He won’t see me.”

Joy lit up Marik’s face, “he’s embarrassed! That is so fucking  _ cute _ . He finally kisses a boy and he’s too embarrassed to see him again!” he felt like dancing, couldn’t  _ wait _ to get home and give Atem endless shit. 

He couldn’t wait to tell Ryou.

“He’s never kissed a boy before?” The man- Yugi! That was his name - was probing, he poked Marik in the bicep to get his attention. 

Marik looked at him, dropping his arm from the door frame, still laughing. He wiped his eyes and grinned. 

“He’s never kissed anyone, actually. He’s as gay as they come but you know,  _ so am I _ , and i’ve kissed girls. Atem’s fucked everyone and their father - or probably just their fathers, i’m not gonna say daddy issues, but…” his words trailed off with a grin, “Dude, he refuses to kiss anyone. We had a betting pool going on how long he’d take. You should feel lucky.”

Yugi looked lost, trying to take this all in, “He’s embarrassed….”

“Good to see ya, man! I’ll catch ya next time.” Marik grinned, walking away quickly.

Once he reached the pavement, he practically sprinted to Ryou, plopping down into the gutter beside him and throwing an arm around his shoulders.

“So, guess what Atem’s boyfriend just made me realise?” he grinned, planting a kiss on his cheek. 

 

\------

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

\------

  
  


Atem lay on his back, head hanging over the edge of his bed, holding his cigarette between his teeth. 

He exhaled around it and removed it with two fingers. 

He sat up with a quiet groan and looked down at his bare legs, the hairs there. 

He twisted his wrist, bringing the lit end of the tiny stick of tobacco and who knows what else closer, he could smell the hairs as the singed, see them curling into themselves tightly, tiny stings when the tiny fuses reached his skin. 

He bit his lip and grinned, laughing once quietly. He repeated the action on a fresh patch of hair, this time chasing the hair to the roof and pressing the tip of the cigarette against his skin. 

“Fuck!” he caught himself grinning as he pulled it away. 

Burns hurt in a very particular way. 

He blew on the skin, and then returned to his game, mostly just singing the hair because he hated the smell of it so much that he started to like it; sneaking drags of the cigarette every so often, he began to let the ash fall onto his skin too - it burnt for a moment before it was nothing more than a collection of dust. 

 

“Goddamn it!” He could hear a voice from down the hall and rolled his eyes, he flopped back down so that his head hung, and replaced the cigarette between his teeth. 

The door opened, and he smiled pleasantly at the white-haired woman who was glaring down at him. 

“Good evening, Kisara! How are you?” he asked energetically, tone enthusiastic as he exhaled once more. 

Kisara glared, “I’m so sick of you smoking inside.” 

Atem raised an eyebrow, rolled onto his stomach instead, placing a hand on the wooden floor to support himself, and looked at her, “You only just noticed? It’s not like it lingers. I have the doors open.” 

He glanced at the two walls of his bedroom that were nothing more than large glass panels, four of which were sliding doors, opening half of his room entirely. 

“Seriously, this is my fifth today.” 

He watched in amusement as Kisara walked to the bed and took the carton of cigarettes, settling onto her knees beside him, “Whatever. Still not speaking to Seto?” she asked, lighting one herself. 

Atem smirked and watched her, ashing into the bowl he had been neglecting, he shifted himself and rested his head on her knee. “I’m not  _ not speaking  _ to him, I just haven’t been seeing him. I texted him today.” 

Kisara made a noise and Atem knew she was rolling her eyes, he looked up at her and smiled softly, feeling a slight pang of comfort tug on his heart.

“We haven’t hung out in ages.” He murmured quietly, and watched Kisara’s head drop down to look at him in surprise. 

Her hand came up to run through his hair, her nails parting the knots in it. He closed his eyes and sighed softly, dropping the end of his now-extinguished cigarette into the ashtray. 

“You’ve been with Seto a lot these last six months, until now.” She told him, quietly grumbling as a knot refused to unravel at her touch, “He misses you, you know.” 

  
Atem hummed softly, “If you say so.” he murmured, voice sleepy and relaxed, something about Kisara’s presence just calmed him, she was so much older than him, and the only person Atem ever let fuss over his hair, “I bet he’s been telling you how much he misses me. That sounds just like him.” He couldn’t manage sarcasm, but he knew Kisara would pick up on it. 

“Of course he hasn’t, but he’s so off at the moment. I haven’t seen him this fragile before, Atem. He’s yelling, all the time. Mokuba can’t stand him right now.” 

Atem sighed, he didn’t want to care. “He’s got his own shit going on, it’s not me.” 

“You know as well as I do that isn’t true. He might be pretending it’s this ridiculous job he’s working on, but his best friend dropped out of his life suddenly. You’re his right-hand man, Atem. He needs you.” Kisara’s tone was bordering on protective, of both of them. 

Atem opened his eyes and watched her hand tap the cigarette to remove the ash, reached down and scratched the raw skin he had been burning earlier, “I didn’t want to be a drug dealer. I didn’t ask to be his  _ Aide-de-camp _ , I didn’t ask him to fucking pity me and make me move in here and be his bitch.” he muttered. 

Kisara was frowning, he could tell, “Nobody has pity for you.” 

Atem snorted, pressing his finger into the most painful of the burns he had inflicted. 

“He could see your potential, Atem. He didn’t see any reason you should be on the street when you could run this entire organisation in a heartbeat-”

“ _ Cleaaaaaaarly.”  _ Now, he managed the sarcasm, let it flood into one word, drag loudly, louder than Kisara’s words. He hated it. He hated Kaiba. 

“He wants me to be his fucking pet, ‘Sara.” He pushed himself up suddenly, looked at her with wild eyes, “He can fuck me when he wants, train me, groom me into his perfect little heir so that he can leave me with this shit the day when he finally decides one of the assassination attempts on him is good enough to take his life. He’s forcing me into the mould of it, because he wants someone to do it who isn’t Mokuba.” He ranted, felt the relief of the words finally being spoken leave his shoulders, “Because i’m the perfect candidate, right? Because i’d never touch the drugs, because i’m cold enough for the killing side of it, because i’m the kind of guy who could sit down with video game and play it with one hand while shooting someone. I’ve got nobody to leave behind, no hope in hell of any other career, and i’m so fucking  _ smart _ that it wouldn’t be such an offence to him if i did as good of a job as him.” He stood, pulled his shirt off and changed into a new one, yanking jeans up his thighs - he could see the moment Kisara noticed the burns on his leg, and knew she wouldn’t comment, knew she respected his need to hurt himself, if the alternative was dying.

“I’m fucking sick of it. He doesn’t own me, and he can’t tell me what to fucking do. I don’t want to be his  _ right hand man _ , I don’t want to be his anything.”

“Don’t you dare leave, Atem.” Kisara’s tone was sharp, she looked at him with firm eyes, somehow looking down at him despite her eye level being lower. 

Atem sneered, and grabbed the key to his bike, “He bought me a fucking motorbike. I don’t even like them.” he muttered, shoving his wallet into his back pocket and storming to the garage to retrieve his bike. 

 

He didn’t bother with his helmet, shrugging into the pleather jacket that hung over the seat, and rode it out of the garage. Marik used the thing more than he did, found a certain charm in the makings of it. 

He supposed he was getting to like the motorbike more and more, he liked to rev the engine and feel it thrum alongside his heart when he was angry. 

He imagined having an accident on this would be great, he’d be scraped up and bleeding and aching, thrown yards away from the wreckage. 

It had been three weeks since he last saw Kaiba, and his bruises has all healed, he’d have to find a way to get them back. 

He parked the bike in the alley beside Noah’s, tucked the key into his pocket as well, and headed inside, nodding briefly at the bartender as he sat. He made short work of grabbing the whiskey that was provided to him, tossing it back quickly. 


	13. The Darkness Is Just A Suggestion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm back, this fic is back.   
> I appreciate if anyone is still reading this, comments mean the world to me.
> 
> This chapter is pretty dark, sexual themes and explicit language, a fair bit of negative thought and introspection. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking around.

Atem could fuck like nothing else.

It was what he did, no matter what state he was in, yet especially in  _ this _ particular state of dishevelment. 

He’d slammed back alcohol until stopping didn’t seem like the better idea, was sure that he could feel his blood stream as it filled with liquor. 

His body moved differently, when the spirits of wasted money spread through his veins, his limbs swung easier than usual, his legs propelling him faster, the rest of the world slower than him. 

And so, he found somebody to press his skin against in a bathroom, legs wrapped around the man’s back, both of his hands supporting himself on the sink that bruised into his tailbone. 

The repetitive, hasty movements of the grunting, sweating heap of flesh that was inside of him was driving his skull into the mirror on occasion. He heaved his body higher, letting his elbows bend so that his shoulders met the wall too, head sinking forward, he breathed hotly and peered at the man he was giving a free pass into his body. 

He wondered if this man thought he was special, if he felt he was receiving some gift from between Atem’s skin, felt that the blood drawn by Atem’s teeth along his neck was a mark he could take pride in, if he thought that the frantic breath and occasional grunt that passed his lips was  _ his  _ doing.

Atem could feel his lips curl up into a grin, biting hard into his lower lip, he raised one hand and slung it around the man’s neck, drawing his own body towards him, he felt his ribcage collide with the thick body of the other.

He searched the air for his face, his lips and teeth catching the man’s chin, he bit hard at his jaw, pinching the skin there hard. He laughed giddily when the stranger’s hand gripped his back harder, nails digging in with a slightly hissed exclamation of pain. 

He didn’t stop, biting at the other man, occasionally scraping his nails into his skin just to feel it tear, until the movements stopped, a large hand yanking his away from his neck. 

Atem looked at the man and giggled, he couldn’t  _ help _ it, the man was so angry, his thumb pressing so hard into the bone of his wrist that it felt like just a little more pressure might pop the joint. He could see blood under his own nails, and laughed, aware of the way it came out in gasps, his skin clenching around the bones of his chest. 

 

“Fucking cut it out, kid.” 

Atem pressed his lips together and forced himself not to laugh, tickled pink at the frustration, at the rough grip on his arm. 

He let the man keep his arm held, used his hips and free hand to pull away, landing easily on the bathroom floor. He squared his shoulders and raised his chin to the man, knew that he looked like a defiant child, and honestly didn’t mind. 

Part of him wanted to grab the man and pull his hair, leave him with his pants down, by himself. 

But Atem was good at sex, he wasn’t doing anything else, and he didn’t see any reason not to let the man expel whatever fucking fantasies he was getting out of his system, so he twisted his body, grunting softly at the pain in his shoulder when the man didn’t release his other hand, and used his free hand to pull the man closer behind him. 

Forehead pressed to the mirror, Atem stared at a blurred reflection as it moved with the beats, stared into his own blank eyes and searched for something else there, tried to find another reason he was doing this than ‘he might as well.’

 

The reason didn’t come. It didn’t come when Atem finished onto the  _ fucking huge _ fingers of the man, it didn’t come when the man tossed the used condom into the trash, or when they both refastened their pants. 

He rose onto his toes as the man made uncomfortable attempts at thanking him, a notion Atem had always found ludicrous, and Atem still found no reason. 

He had no satisfaction from this, even through the high of a perfectly reasonable orgasm, he’d just stared into his own eyes as they remained lifeless, widening before they closed. 

He examined the bracelet bruise around his left wrist once the man left, leafing his other hand through his hair, feeling the sweat there. 

He didn’t fuck strangers to feel something, because he knew that didn’t happen, he didn’t fuck strangers to feel like he mattered, or because he was attracted to them, or because he wanted to hurt himself. 

None of those things mattered, none of it did anything. 

He wet his hands in the sink and rubbed them into his own scalp before he left the room, knocking the door closed with his foot. 

He didn’t know why he had this mighty need to fuck everyone who looked at him, why he thought about sucking the cock of every man who so much as handed him back something he dropped, why he felt anxiety creep up if he walked away from someone who had bought him a drink but  _ not _ crawled into his body, but it had been around longer than he could remember. 

He did it less often lately, because Kaiba had filled that need, yet now he was back where he begun. 

He’d stopped himself from going to his boss, from crawling over him while he slept and waking him up with a proposition, he felt so restless, felt his skin crawl like there were bugs beneath it trying to find an escape. 

He wandered the street, neon signs burning into his retinas, something about the heat and sound they seemed to produce sat nicely in his chest, so he found one he particularly liked, the name of a bar unnecessarily printed on two signs, identical, not even a metre apart. He scaled it, thought of the trees he’d climbed as a child while wishing there was somebody to climb them with him, treehouses he’d designed before tearing the paper so that nobody would see, and took his perch on the scaffolding that held the sign. 

He liked to be above other people, liked to be out of sight, sitting in the amplified darkness of the bright sign, he felt the cold air but didn’t  _ feel  _ cold. His body shook violently, his legs quivering to a point where he was sure he couldn’t walk if he wanted to, but he  _ wasn’t cold. _

He rested his cheek against the wet, cold steel beside him and felt it dig into his skin, felt it on the bone, jaw numbing. 

 

He thought about sex. Considered counting the number of men he’d fucked, but laughed aloud at the notion. He thought about Kaiba, about Yugi. He thought about Kisara, wondered if she’d ever fucked Kaiba. He knew they had dated at one stage, figured it was only natural. But what the fuck did he know about normal relationships? Maybe people didn’t immediately bone each other just because they exchanged a kind word. 

He thought about the times people asked him his rate, or if he was an escort, and smirked. Sex work wasn’t something he took any issue with, and he’d considered it more often than he cared to admit. 

Homeless on the streets, of course it had been an option. He’d received offers, but there was something that made him pull away from it. 

He could fuck anyone, and maybe that was best left as a free service, like some kind of fucked up favour he could grant to people. 

“A free stay inside the skeleton boy’s body. No kissing, and he’s yours.” He said aloud, enjoying the way his lips, slightly swollen and numb from the cold, brushed against one another. 

He’d had to sleep with people for Kaiba, however. 

Part of the job, he guessed, since Kaiba knew about his ambivalence towards sex, and knew that Atem could take care of himself, he had now, on two occasions, wormed his way into the bed of someone high in their organisation’s begrudging partner company and stolen from their homes once they were asleep. 

He knew he was a valuable asset, because the things he gathered were too secretive and precious to be passed through third party hands. 

Kaiba trusted him with them because Atem was the heir, because Atem was the perfect man for the job, and because Atem would come back to him the next day.

And because if something went wrong, Atem would have no qualms about taking a life.

They both simultaneously carried with them a penchant for being talked to like they didn’t matter, Kaiba would argue about it until he died, but Atem knew he loved to hear him say that he hated him, that he wanted him dead, and Atem made no secret of wanting to feel like nothing. 

He closed his eyes and wondered if the steel pole could burn into his cheek and bond him there, the bones of his thighs starting to ache from the edge of the flat steel he sat on. 

His phone rang in his pocket, and he retrieved it, answering before he thought to check the screen, he pulled it from his face and squinted at the sudden, blinding backlight. 

“Hi Kisara.” 

“Are you quite done with your pity party?”

Atem smiled, chuckled softly, “No pity for me. But i’ll be home soon.”

There was an elongated pause, and Atem could just see her examining her nails, and rolled his eyes. 

“There’s a car on the corner of the block waiting for you. If you can’t get down from there without breaking a fucking leg, tell me and i’ll get them to help you.” 

Atem snorted, “You had me  _ followed? _ ”

“Boss’s orders.” 

Atem sighed, peeling his face from the pole painfully, feeling his skin cling to it more than he’d like, he hung up and dropped the phone into his pocket and gripped the beams just above the one he rested on. Slipping his body forward, he let himself drop, his hands catching him with a hard jolt that echoed through his cold bones painfully. 

He breathed heavily through gritted teeth and knew that landing was going to jarr his ankles, found himself wishing there was an option to land on a meaty part of his body. 

He let go, closing his eyes.

 

He hadn’t accounted for the ice. 

One foot had barely graced the cement when he slipped from under him, his body slamming down onto his spine. He was too numb for actual pain, but the shock left him frozen.

He thought about how he knew sex was just two bodies meeting, not souls or spirits or love or hate, nothing but physical movements. He had never been deluded into thinking any cosmic force was in control of their human lives, nothing grand about any of it, just simple movements, simple math, simple science. He knew he would never believe in anything more, would reject anyone who attempted to convince him there was more, but gods, deep down, he wanted there to be. He wished it was possible, and maybe that was why he pressed his skin into everyone he could. He so firmly believed that it was all inherently pointless and so desperately hoped that somebody would just prove him wrong, despite believe it wasn’t possible.

He laughed loudly, felt tears sting at his eyes from the shock to his system, he let the men he recognised as Kaiba’s bodyguards pull him to his feet, brush ice and snow from his clothing and hair. 

He closed his eyes and leant onto the taller of the pair, “I think i’m gonna pass out.” He informed him, and grinned when the man swept him into his arms. 

He kept his eyes closed as they walked, the world swinging like a pendulum inside his head. 

“You never hold me like this anymore.” He murmured, and laughed when the man put him in the car without a word. 

“You’re no fun at all. This is why our relationship is falling apart.”

He caught the other guard smirking in the mirror, and grinned, sitting up and buckling his seatbelt, he clasped a hand over his shoulder, “I’m glad someone appreciates me. This is why you’re my first choice for an affair.”

The other guard glanced at Atem, using one hand to shove him back into his seat, “Do you think Mr Kaiba would mind if I knocked him out?”

His partner chuckled easily, “Probably not, but I don’t wanna be stuck with just your ass for the entire drive, leave him be. He’s funny.”

Atem grinned, “That’s me. I’m the funny guy.” He murmured, and closed his eyes again. 


	14. Nothing In My Heart That's Worth A Beating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh boy, trigger warning for discussions of abuse and scars, a little bit of violence. 
> 
> Enjoy ^_^

Atem’s eyes were groggy when he awoke, hands lowering him onto a bed. 

He sat up slowly when they released him, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger and groaning, he looked up at the bodyguard who had carried him. 

The man was staring at him like some kind of peculiar bird, and he fucking  _ hated _ it, raising one eyebrow sharply, he snapped, “You waiting for a fucking tip?” 

The guard rolled his eyes - Atem should probably find out his name sometime, since he’d almost been tossed from Kaiba’s window by the prick about a dozen times - and headed for the door. 

Atem dropped his hand and sighed heavily, “Hey, thanks for the ride.” he muttered, turning his face away when he saw the man slip him a smile. 

He pressed his hand into his own face and dragged the skin downwards, stretching it and rolling his eyes, “put that sappy look away, get the hell out of here.”

He turned back when he heard the door close. 

 

He rose to his feet slowly, stripping from his shirt and jeans, he changed into a pair of cotton shorts and a soft, dark grey sweater that hung so long that it covered the shorts. He stretched and felt the ache in his back, cringing, he scratched at his ankle with the toe of the other, before setting out of the room and knocking on the door at the end of the hall. 

“Fuck off.”

Atem smiled and turned the knob, letting himself in, he closed the door behind him. 

Kisara had the master bedroom, of course. Adorned like a palace, she was prone on her four-poster bed, holding a book above her head, one leg raised to cross the other’s knee, her hair trailing off the edge of the bed. 

Atem glanced around her room, a place he rarely visited, though he adored it. 

Bookshelves lined two of the walls, he walked to them and dragged his fingers along the spines. They were all dust free, and organised. He rolled his head back onto his shoulders and looked at her, “Dewey Decimal System?” He raised an eyebrow. 

“Yes. How could you tell?” She replied, not looking away from the book. 

He crouched and examined some of the lower shelves, arms resting on his thighs as he bounced on his haunches, “I volunteered in a library when I was a kid.”

She laughed, “of course you did.”

Atem turned, standing, “I actually did…” he frowned, tilting his head at her, “Why is that funny?”

Kisara still didn’t lower her book, “Oh, I believe you.” She turned a page, “You’re just a giant nerd. I would kill to see what you looked like as a kid.” 

Atem rolled his eyes and moved his body with them, grabbing a book from the shelf and striding to her bed. 

He climbed on beside her, sitting at her foot, he crossed his legs and craned his neck, “What’cha reading?” 

She didn’t answer him, shifting her foot away when his touched hers. 

“Fine, be like that. I don’t care anyway.” He muttered, opening his own novel in his lap and scanning the page. 

He couldn’t focus on any of the words, his head spinning with the liquor, he pretended to read until he got frustrated that she was still not talking, clapping the book closed and putting his foot directly onto hers. 

She made a disapproving sound without opening her mouth, pulling her knees higher so that her feet were further from him. 

“Kisaaaaaraa.” He whined, pressing his foot to her calve, moving quickly to avoid the kick she launched at his face. He wasn’t fast enough, the alcohol delaying his reaction time, and her foot squished his cheek towards his eye. 

He glared at her, “your feet  _ stink _ and you’re mean.” 

She looked at him and laughed, pressing into his cheek more, “you’re such a baby.” she cooed, before letting her leg drop back onto the bed, looking back at her book.

“I am not a baby, you old hag.”  He muttered, and settled back onto his knees to try to see the book title again, to no avail. 

She had stupidly long arms, _ goddamn tall people _ . 

Atem stood slowly, arms out to steady himself, and leant forward over her, standing on his toes as she swerved the book further towards the headboard, her chin tilting back to follow it, he leant further. 

His left leg lifted to give him more leverage, and his body swooped forward without grace. He felt the sheets beneath his foot slip suddenly, and yelled in surprise. 

Kisara’s own foot swept under his, her body twisting as she quickly moved to safety from his fall, she placed her book down and turned, pinning Atem’s wrists down once he landed.

 

“Can I get  _ any fucking peace _ around here? Half the time you’re being a goddamn emo, the other half Marik is begging me to play video games with him because you’re never free. Not to mention fucking Seto calling me with every tiny problem in his life. He couldn’t find the spare goddamn batteries today. And he texted me that it was a code red, and then called me. A  _ code red _ , Atem. What kind of fucking movies does he watch? Codes?!” 

Atem looked up into her face as she ranted, and was just, so glad to be looking at her. Her hair was so stupidly long - like the rest of her - and the strands close to her face were tickling his nose, so he scrunched his nose and eyes closed, shaking his head in an attempt to free himself, while fighting to regain his wrists. 

Sure, Atem was good at hand to hand combat, but he had fucking  _ nothing _ on Kisara. 

Kisara had actual martial art training, and Atem still had no real idea of how strong she really was. 

Atem was the deadly one in their force, the one they sent in because he was charming and small and unthreatening, and because he was cold and brutal without it being a game to him, but Kisara was the secret weapon. 

She was rarely necessary, and Atem knew that Seto kept it that way for a reason. Kisara had no bodyguards, no protection, and only carried one gun because it had been a customised gift from Seto. 

She was quiet, she was fast, and she was savage. Atem had seen her in action twice, and both times even he had been a little shaken by her. 

She always offered to bring him to her gym sometime, the basement had been renovated just for her workouts, but Atem was a little intimidated. 

He was made of bone and little else, and he was fairly sure if she threw him across the room he might fall to pieces.

And so, Atem let her pin him, let her rant angrily, only made a small sound of complaint when a tiny bit of spit landed on his cheek, and he waited for her to finish. 

 

“So, how about you leave me alone for once?” She finished, her eyes narrowed. 

Atem looked at her and raised an eyebrow, “You’re really not gonna just tell me what you were reading?” he asked, and laughed, desperately trying to wriggle out of her hold when she slapped him just light enough to not hurt, furiously climbing onto him entirely, Atem tried to wrestle out of her hold. 

“You’re such a little shit, Atem.” She muttered as she finally released him, panting and giggling. 

He sat up and rubbed at his wrists, “Sorry.” He murmured, looked down and immediately feeling his mood sober. 

He was very aware of his mouth pulling downward, his eyes and cheeks relaxing glumly, and felt a lump form in his chest, hunching him forward. 

He hated himself so fucking much right then, but he couldn’t stop it. Half-drunk and so fucking miserable and alone, he reached for Kisara, slinging his hands around her waist and hoisting himself into her lap, he pressed his face hard into her neck and almost cried. 

He figured the only reason tears didn’t come was all the liquor, dehydration in it’s most extreme form, he sobbed dryly against her, his mouth hot and sticky, jaw aching.

Her hands came up to wrap around him, softly rubbing at his back, she let him sob and shake for a few moments, before she spoke. 

“You know how I studied law?” she asked, and didn’t pause for a response, and so Atem continued to heave dryly in her arms, listening intently, the sound of her breathing and her lilting voice soothing him, he felt his eyes start to sting as he felt something unfamiliar and yet comforting, instinctual, pressing his face closer, nose folded on her skin. “I did two years of psychology, I was considering social work.” she continued, pressing firm circles into his shoulder blades, “And god, Atem, you need help. I don’t know shit about your life, I don’t think i’ve even heard you say the word ‘dad’ before, but you reek of neglect. That can’t be surprising to you, but maybe you’re just waiting to hear it out loud, in a kind but firm way. You’re starving yourself, maybe you think you deserve it, maybe it’s a habit from the way you grew up, but either way it’s not right. You hurt yourself, you intentionally put yourself in danger, and you’re apathetic to it all. I don’t think you even… hurt yourself with the intention of punishment, sometimes.” She paused then, Atem could hear the breath rattle in her chest as her hands stopped moving, simply hugging him. Dread built in his stomach, “You deserve a chance, you know. You- you’re allowed to be okay.”

Atem’s own tears had just begun to fall when he felt hers touch his shirt, fabric clinging to him with the sudden wetness, when every feeling drained from him instantly. 

He sucked in a damp breath and pressed his open mouth to her shoulder, staring widely at the wall over her shoulder, stricken. 

He comforted her, he thanked her, murmured humble appreciation for her kindness, and when she had stopped crying for him, her tears and burden staining his clothing, he brushed his fingers through her hair and let her kiss his forehead, assuring her that he felt better and would try to get some sleep and do better the next day. He left the room, flicking the lights off as he shut the door. 

 

He padded heavily down the hallway, hooking into the bathroom after catching sight of his own reflection, he turned on the overhead lights, tearing the clothes from his frame, he stared at his bones. 

Atem hooked his fingers into the chasms dug out by his skeleton, pressed his nails firmly, hands cupping the plane of his hipbone, holding it in his fingers, he pressed until it ached, the bones protesting with echoing silence inside his head. 

He wanted to scream, wanted to smash his own skull onto the vanity. He could still feel the dampness of Kisara’s tears on his skin, hated it. 

He splashed water over his face and neck, gripping the faucet and looking closely at his own eyes. 

They were bloodshot, but not concerningly so. 

“You need him.” he told himself softly, and smiled exhaustedly at his own face, the relief that flooded his features, as if he’d been waiting for himself to admit it. 

He thought about being wrapped around Kaiba’s body, about his thighs parted over Kaiba’s hips as his hands held onto his bones. 

He did need him. 

He went to his bedroom, pulling on clothing, a button down Kaiba had bought him, a dark red pocket on the breast, and a pair of jeans that he’d had for too many years to be sure. He fixed his hair and drank water, and retrieved his bike from the garage - spared a thought to wonder when it had been picked up - and rode to the house on the hill. 

 

\-----

 

Atem stood with his forehead against the doors for a long time.

His eyes closed, he spoke quietly to himself. 

“You’re above this. You don’t need to beg him. You don’t need this.” 

But he did. Fuck, he needed it so much, needed Kaiba. 

Getting himself into bar fights didn’t quite fulfill the urges as much as being tossed around Kaiba’s bedframe did, the bruises not as satisfying. 

Yugi had been harassing him non-stop. He’d ignored him and sent either Marik or Kisara to sell to him. Hadn’t seen him since the hospital. 

He never really left the house except for work and bars, these days, and he hadn’t seen Kaiba since he’d left him crying on the bed. 

He inhaled deeply and let himself into the house, walking up the stairs slowly. 

He tried to not think, clear his mind as he tore open the doors to his bedroom.

 

Kaiba was at his desk, pen making repetitive moments, carving lines into wood, since he had already torn the paper. 

“Hey boss.” Atem murmured with a confidence he didn’t have, moving to him and pulling his chair around to face him. 

Kaiba looked up at him with soft eyes - Atem hated it, wished he would put the fucking things away - and caught him as Atem climbed into his lap, the leather of his chair creaking to accommodate the shift in balance. 

Atem stared at him, biting his lower lip, their eyes close, his nose brushing Kaiba’s when he breathed. 

He’d come here to fuck, to fill a need, a void, to replace the thoughts of the man he’d fucked in the bathroom with fresh bruises from these hands he knew, but now that he was here, their skin touching, he couldn’t. He didn’t want it. 

Didn’t want Kaiba looking at him with sad, caring eyes, didn’t want them because they hurt, because he had already been forced to know that Kisara  _ really did  _ care tonight, forced to carry her weight on his brittle bones, he didn’t need Kaiba as well.

He wanted to kiss him, he realised, when he felt soft breath on his mouth.

He thought about Yugi, about lips, and their mouths moving as one and as opposites, about movements with tongues that had no practice yet somehow coordinated for good sensations, thought about the feeling of tracing his tongue along a lip. 

He reared back, catching Kaiba’s left hand and pulling it between them, he lined them up wrist to elbow, turning so that both of their palms were to the sky. 

He didn’t know what he was doing, and so he just acted. 

He touched a flat, square scar with the tip of his finger, looked at Kaiba. 

“Story.”

Kaiba looked hesitant, confused and uncertain, like he wasn’t sure how he should be reacting. 

Atem wondered if he was scaring him. 

When he didn’t get what he was requesting, Atem sighed, flicking at a raised pink line that drew across his own arm, crooked. If it had continued on, it would draw a straight line to his smallest finger. 

 

He stared deep into the blue eyes in front of him, the blue eyes too close to him, “I took up tennis as a kid.” He said, “my father agreed to help me practice. Well, he demanded it. We used this court in the backyard of one of his friends - you know how rich families are, apparently if they have a hobby they need it in their goddamn backyard - and he would serve ball after ball at me, counting every one I missed. I wasn’t even trying that hard, I kind of was just glad to be out of the house, but when he got to four, he got mad. He told me that if I didn’t apply myself, i’d be worth nothing forever.” Atem looked down at the scar, intimidated by the intense, unwavering quality of Kaiba’s stare, he rubbed at it with his thumb, “Pissed me off. I didn’t want to be baited by him, but fuck it pissed me off. I started trying, and I started trying  _ angrily. _ The harder I returned, the harder he did, until eventually I knocked it over the fence.

“He clapped. For a second, I thought he was serious, and then he laughed and told me he knew I couldn’t keep a level head under pressure. God, he was a fucking prick. He had this smirk on his face-” He gritted his teeth and shook his head, “We had hundreds of spare balls, but he made me retrieve it. Told me I couldn’t go around and ask, either. I had to reach under the fence, one of those shitty wooden ones, and I don’t think he knew, but there was a huge splinter hanging off it. I didn’t realise till it was too late.” He poked the scar again, “And then I just, didn’t stop. I thought maybe he’d be nice to me if I had to get stitches.” He shrugged, “Well, 28 of them later, and I was being scolded for wasting their time trying to take up tennis, since the doctor said I couldn’t play for at least a month, and I was forbidden from taking it up again.” Atem said, and tilted his head, “They used to bring up tennis when they’d try to tell me I give up on everything. As if I intentionally stopped playing.” 

He let the story hang there, didn’t know what he was trying to achieve. 

He wasn’t seeking comfort, or- anything. He had just wanted to tell it. He knew Kaiba had no clue what to do with this information. 

He hadn’t spoke about his parents to anyone, except in passing to Mana. 

“Why did you pick the square scar?” 

Atem looked up at Kaiba, the corner of his own mouth tugging up in something of a smile - not because he was happy, just- out of the ridiculousness of the situation, of the tiredness in Kaiba’s tone. “Because it’s a burn, right? Something hot and metal?” 

Kaiba’s eyes closed as he exhaled softly, and quietly told Atem of his stepfather taking him to the house of a lover, of sitting in her living room playing chess against himself, of growing bored playing alone and entering the room.

A punishment for seeing things he shouldn’t have, a reminder of how secrets were kept, in the form of an unofficial brand. A cufflink heated with a lighter before being seared against his skin. 

Atem listened intently, and quietly told Kaiba he was glad Gozaburo was dead, letting his head hang heavy on his shoulder. 

Kaiba didn’t respond, his hands simply coming to rest around Atem’s waist once more, they sat in pregnant silence together. 

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr www.manicpixiedreampharaoh.tumblr.com :)


End file.
